


The Black Cell Boy

by Ayzlynn



Series: Lives of a Dragon King in Winter [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU: Time is a River not a Road, Aerys has Jon Not Ned, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Au: magic, Characters maybe diversely different to Canon, F/M, House Targaryen Never Fell, Jonerys Endgame, My Mythos belongs to me., Not Canon Compliant, Robert Won Trident but not the War, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2020-11-28 18:29:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 102,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20971073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayzlynn/pseuds/Ayzlynn
Summary: House Targaryen was in free fall, had been for years. Aerys, the Mad King, may have been mad but he had a plan. A plan that would see the House of Dragons soar again.He had survived the Great Upheval, it had cost him his greatest heir, Rhaegar. He would never forgive the Realm, the world for taking his future away. It would pay for his loss, they all would.All is not lost however, Rhaegar left Aerys an heir, so now he would keep the prince safe even if he had to imprison his rival in his own castle.No secret stays a secret forever, and there a number of factions seeking a missing boy, to use him against Aerys and take his throne. When Viserys dares the younger Dragons to descend into the depths of the catacombs to confront the monsters that dwell there. They find no monsters, but they do find a mysterious boy locked in a Black Cell.Even after returning to the light of the surface, Princess Daenerys cannot dispel thoughts of the mystery boy in the Black Cell.





	1. A Direwolf’s Rage

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the premise of this story and the ‘discovery’ even some of the Meereen parts during Season Five. The only change is I originally named Jon as Aemon, but now I changed it to Aegon, it still fits in story.  
Otherwise be prepared this story is as it is, the story will not follow tv or books in many if any ways. I am needing distraction from my other fictions so posting this for myself and to share something without all the canon people expect because there is none. Some elements will be similar to the other fictions as the mythos behind it all is the same and drawn from the original setting fiction I am penning.  
I do not apologise if it is not an expected plot, this fiction is not a fix it is just a divergent story I wrote for my enjoyment.

“You will return my nephew to me!” Lord Stark could not control his rage.

“I will not.” The king said too calm for the usual screechy man.

“He is my nephew and you have no right to him.”

“I have every right. I am the king. You and your Rebellion cost me the future of my House, there are to be consequences.” Aerys glared down on the Northern lord.

"It was not my rebellion. Your son stole my sister and raped her, Robert only fought to have his betrothed returned to him."

"My son would NEVER perpetrate such a crime!"

"Jon is..."

"That is not his name!"

"You already have a grandson, an heir by that name, you cannot have two." Lord Stark said quieter.

"I am King, I can have anything I want. I want your nephew here, where I can watch him and make sure he causes me no more trouble than he already has."

"I would take him North, raise him as the bastard he is, he would never trouble your House as I would never tell him."

"You will never tell him because you will never see him. He will be the payment to keep your rebellious head and your father's seat and for your House to keep Winterfell. You tell any man and I will kill the last piece of your sister you have." Aerys glared at this man who was not even half the man his lord-father had been before him. A child who had played with the powers of the realm and failed miserably. "Now. Bend your knee and swear your fealty, and no more Stark blood need be spilled by a Targaryen." Ned did not want to, not bend to this insane man who had murdered his brother and father, thwarted the rebellion somehow and now held his nephew hostage. His last piece of Lyanna.

"My word should be enough why do you even want the lad?"

"To keep The North loyal. Because as he is the last piece of your sister, he is also the last piece of my son."

"You have Princess Rhaenys and Crowned Prince Aegon the Sixth. He is no last piece."

"They are pieces true, but he is the last thing Rhaegar gave to this realm other than his life. He belongs to me. He will repay what you have done to my House. Be loyal Lord Stark or your nephew will suffer for every little annoyance you are to me." Aerys grinned maliciously. "Now get out! Of my Throne room and my city!"

Ned Stark was met at the door by another Targaryen and very different one. Queen Rhaella, she was carrying her infant daughter, the Princess Daenerys if Ned remembered correctly. Wrapped in the red and black swaddling of House Targaryen. Ned wondered what were the colours of Jon's swaddling, he was only months elder than the little princess.

"Lord Stark."

"My queen." He bent his head because he did respect his queen, she was his father's friend and she was kind with a gentle heart. She endured a great deal being married to the Mad King, even the sweet child in her arms was tainted with pain, for everyone knew the princess was conceived in the pain of rape. 

"Aerys is right, Jon... That is what you call him?" Her voice so soft it was almost undecernible.

"Yes, your grace."

"He is the last piece of Rhaegar to us, to me. The last touch my son left on this world. I will love him, as Rhaegar loved your sister and he did love her Lord Stark. That little babe was born of a great love. They were happy until they were hunted. He is my last piece of Rhaegar, I know Elia's son looks a Targaryen but Jon has Rhaegar's good soul behind his eyes."

"I haven't seen him."

"I will limit Aerys as much as I can and I will take care of him as much as Aerys will allow. His life will not be in danger so long as I live. Or Aerys will find a blade in my hand impaling his heart. He is my grandson and I will protect him." Her words were empty if Aerys would not allow her to care for Jon, but he could tell she meant them.

"I will have to accept this as all I can hope for, as I cannot tempt Aerys rage and endanger the babe."

"Have faith Lord Stark."

"This is not over my queen, I will not give up, I will continue to return to petition for his release."

"I would expect nothing else from Rickard's son." She smiled and let him go.

"Has Lord Stark left?"

"His party left the city at dawn your grace."

"Good, now I need every servant in this castle and every one of Varys' little birds killed, so no one takes news of the boy to the world. Kill anyone who could have seen or heard he exists."

"Everyone?"

"I will have no more traitors in my Keep than I must keep."


	2. The Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The young Dragons of House Targaryen are feeling bored, secluded in the Red Keep by King Aerys' paranoid, protected from the world outside. The young however do not understand caution when they are itching to fly.  
Prince Viserys tries to give the teen Dragons some excitement. He dares them to delve into the depths of the catacombs of the Keep and face the monsters that lurk there. Attempting to set their hearts racing with anxiety, he succeeds in setting their minds racing instead, as they encounter a mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike other fics, I hope to make most of these short chapters.

Daenerys sat watching her mother embroidering, she should have been embroidering herself just as her good-sister and niece were. Daenerys absently wondered if there were other highborn ladies as bored as she was in the Seven Kingdoms. She supposed not as bored as she was, they probably had the freedom to actually leave their castles, see people other than her family, guards and servants - that would be lovely.

She gazed down at the embroidery in her lap. Daenerys glanced around the room to the women sitting contentedly sewing. Her mother had a smile as she embroidered a dragon with three heads onto a … Oh, Daenerys was not sure where it was going. Her mother had a true skill, the Dragon seem to be about to leap off the cloth, but Daenerys was a tad tired of three-headed Dragons, and Suns and Spears, other ladies came and embroidered their own emblems onto cloth as their husbands spoke to her father with frustration and their sons hunted and did sports with her brother and nephew, and tried wooing her niece and herself. She wished they wouldn’t, she had no interest in boys and it annoyed her father. He would rant every night for hours how she was a Dragon and a Dragon would be her husband, sometimes he would speak like it was to be Viserys her brother others, as if it were to be her nephew Aegon. Once, when she had left her chambers for a drink in the night she had heard him screaming at her mother that Daenerys was going to be Aegon’s bride and he would kill any man or boy who tried to touch her, and stop his plans for strong Dragons. She supposed she should have been happy her father did not speak with such power about her marrying Viserys, but as much as Aegon was a perfect prince, he was also a perfect prick.

Daenerys watched as her good-sister Elia, Princess of Dorne finished off a quite magnificent looking golden Lion, for House Lannister, it was apparently for her own good-sister, Cersei Lannister. After the debacle with Lady Cersei’s brother breaking his vows as a Kingsguard and trying to kill Daenerys’ father, the king had forced Lord Tywin to marry his daughter, Sir Jaime’s twin, to Prince Oberyn of Dorne. Rhaenys said her uncle had been none too pleased to be tied to the Lioness, but over the decade and a half of their marriage she had accepted it and although there was no great enduring love, they were content enough. Daenerys though that might be the most she could hope for in marriage too, to be content enough, eventually.

Rhaenys was looking excitedly out at every young man who looked her way, she was beyond the age to be betrothed and wed, being six years elder than Daenerys, she was getting to the point due simply to her age she would be seen as sour goods, it was king Aerys’ fault, he would not allow any of his young Dragon’s to leave, Viserys was over eight years Daenerys’ senior and their father had refused to let him take a wife. Viserys was accepting of this as far as the realm saw, but Daenerys knew better, for years he had been speaking of how he wished their father would just marry them so they could start the next chapter. For Viserys, Dragonstone was the next chapter.

Daenerys was not as settled with the idea of marrying Viserys as he seemed to be. She knew it was House Targaryen’s way, but he was her brother. If that was not cause enough, their ages were quite divergent. He wasn’t terrible cruel, after all, all boys were cruel. Her father was cruel to her mother, Viserys was cruel to her, Aegon was cruel to Rhaenys and her. She heard Rhaegar hadn’t been cruel. Still one out of four, he must have been the exception, because all boys were cruel.

Daenerys looked down at her lap again. Why was she learning to sew? She was a princess, did princesses sew? She would understand if they taught her to make clothes, not to just decorate them. Did common girls spend _absolute hours _learning to embroider? Rhaenys was happy to do it, she told Daenerys it was a quiet way to spend the long hours they were stuck in here. From some words Viserys had said there were other ways that Rhaenys spent her long hours. _‘Keeping up the traditions.’_ Daenerys wasn’t sure what he truly meant but was sure she did not want details. She guessed, due to some mornings when Rhaenys would drink her ‘special tonic’, or moon tea as everyone else called it. It was understandable, Rhaenys was approaching her first score nameday. Daenerys stood next to her as she flirted, wondering why Elia would teach her daughter to do that when everyone knew the king would find some problem with it. She flatly refused the flowers shoved at her by the same young men and boys shoving them at Rhaenys. She supposed they weren’t shoving them at her, but it felt like they were because Daenerys was only fourteen and she did not like any boy she had meet. Her niece said if she had met more, she might have liked one. Daenerys doubted it.

“Daenerys, darling, you aren’t sewing.” Her mother’s gentle voice came to her.

“It hurts.” Daenerys replied.

“Oh, is your hand sore?” Her mother rose to come sit next to her and take her hand, to rub it, though the sensation was lovely, the pain did not subside.

“No, it is fine.” Her mother continued to hold her hand, she could see it - it was not Daenerys’ hand that hurt, it was something far deeper. She wished she could give the child hope and enthusiasm for her future, but she had nothing to give. Within herself she only had concern for her daughter’s future, and what her brother would decide to inflict on her.

“Daenerys, you need to improve your skills, so one day you can embroider a wedding cloak for your daughter as I and your mother do for you and Rhaenys.” Elia tried to encourage, though she knew neither girl had hope of marriage happening.

“How is my cloak going mother?” Rhaenys asked, with some bite to her tone. “One would think it had the mountains and valleys of the painted table by now.” Her mother had been embroidering it so long, it had so many layers of thread, it could be a textured story.

“The King is finding you the perfect husband, daughter.” Elia did not believe that, but if she spoke against Aerys, her children and herself would be in danger, and her brothers still had expectations of her, as Rhaegar’s widow.

Daenerys extracted her hand, she had seen Rhaenys’ ire and she knew that excuse would not work too many more times on the woman. “Come Rhaenys, I feel we have sat for too long; we need to get our hearts pumping blood back into our legs.” Rhaenys rose quickly putting her perfect embroidery down. Daenerys sighed to see it, why couldn’t she do that?

“Thank you.” Rhaenys said as she left the room with Daenerys’ arm in hers.

“What are sisters for?” She did see Rhaenys like a big sister.

“Maybe one day we truly will be, when you wed Aegon and we two are closer than ever.”

“Yes, won’t that be lovely.” Daenerys did not wish to marry Aegon, but as choices, or lack of them went, he was fair.

“Believe me, it will.” Rhaenys spoke in a tone and inflection Daenerys did not understand.

“I guess so.” Daenerys felt unsure now due to Rhaenys’ tone.

“I know it will be.” Rhaenys smiled at her in a fashion some of the lord’s sons had.

“Rhaenys…” Daenerys needed to make sure she knew what her niece was talking about.

“Don’t you look bored.” Viserys’ voice cut across her inquiry.

“We are!” Rhaenys said glumly.

“Well, I was just about to send Aegon here on a quest.”

“A quest?” Daenerys raised a silver eyebrow. “We aren’t allowed outside the Keep.” Unless escorted by so many guards, it was not worth the trip. She felt like a princess locked in a tower.

“It won’t be outside the Keep.”

“Surely there is nothing exciting inside the Keep.” Aegon agreed with Daenerys. They had grown up here, never got to leave the walls, except on short excursions and never on lengthy stays outside. Even when his grandfather took them as a House to see other Houses, he was erratic in his timing and paths, to keep they safe. Aegon was sixteen and he still had to ride in the wheelhouse! Even simple rides included thirteen guards, a prince could not be adventurous with a square of thirteen guards riding around him.

“Not in the parts you have wandered around, but there are other parts to the Red Keep.” Viserys spoke quietly, so to make it sound ominous.

“What parts?” Aegon stood back. 

Viserys rolled his eyes, arrogant little prick couldn’t play along to alleviate his own boredom? Daenerys better be his bride not Aegon’s because she would stab herself in a week. Probably through the eye or ear.

“Aegon, obviously Viserys is trying something.” Rhaenys gently scolded her brother.

“I am a Dragon Prince; I have no time for games.” Aegon said as he crossed his arms, though inside he was quite excited for the adventure. He had to look a mature prince on the outside though.

“If you are scared.” Viserys shrugged. The girls both looked to Aegon to see his response. Was he scared?

“I am not scared! You haven’t even outlined the endeavour.” Aegon snapped.

“I have a dare for you.”

“A dare?” Daenerys was not sure about a dare.

“Yes, I dare the three of you to go where none of you have gone before.”

“We have gone everywhere in the Keep.” Aegon groaned, they had been stuck there the entirety of their lives.

“Not everywhere. You haven’t been…” Viserys stopped speaking and pointed at the ground.

“Where?” Rhaenys asked looking at the cobblestones. Viserys again pointed down. Rhaenys shook her head to indicate he made no sense. They repeated the exchange and Viserys cursed at her.

“Down!”

“What do you mean down?” Aegon was not sure he liked that direction.

“Below the Keep. I dare you to go down into the depths of the Keep to where the monsters dwell, in the dark dank depths.” They knew there were no monsters, but all three shivered with excitement, because they had never been allowed into the dungeons or even deeper, into the catacombs.

“The catacombs.” Aegon breathed with awe.

“Deeper, to see the Black Cells, if your courage is strong.” Viserys said in a whisper. The eyes of his audience widened in anticipation. No one was allowed down there, they say the worse criminals to walk the realm were secreted away in the Black Cells, left to waste away forgotten by the men in the light. “Scared?”

“No.” Daenerys the youngest and physically littlest of them said with gusto. She started walkig toward the doors that would lead them down. Then she stopped to turn around. The others, even Viserys were staring at her glued to their spots. She suddenly looked unsure. “Which way are the doors down?”

Viserys laughed at her, his brave little sister, well, more extraordinarily bored sister. “This way.” He pointed perpendicular to her marched in direction. “Now you all understand we can take no guards with us, for they would obstruct our journey.” Viserys was more than sure they would not need them, no one had been sent to the Black Cells since the Usurpers War and Lord Baratheon, the Stag who thought he would be the King of Everything , instead of just the forest, had been hauled up and publicly executed. There were no monsters below the Keep, but it would get his younger Dragons excited and set their hearts to racing, liven up their boring and monotonous existences.

They trailed behind Viserys, Daenerys and Rhaenys then Aegon taking up the rear because he was their rear guard. They walked calmly as if nothing was happening until they passed through the restricted door. The air was old and musty, and their feet kicked up dust when they got to the catacombs. Each level down got their hearts thudding louder in their chests, every sound had three heads snapping to check for danger.

The Catacombs were full of Targaryen artefacts: banners, and furniture, boxes and crates of things, and skulls, Dragon skulls, of past days of glory of their House. Viserys let them pour over the bones, they would never get closer than this. His father still had Skulls hanging in the throne room, but none of the tiny ones or the giant ones, just medium sized skulls, just large enough to scare the lords and visitors but not his father.

“Where is Belarion’s skull?” Daenerys asked. His sister was more in love with Dragons than boys, of course she would wish to see the mightiest skull.

“On the last level before the Black Cells.” Viserys knew Daenerys would love to see it, Belarion was gigantic, so large she could hold a small tea party in his maw, so long as no one wished to move around. Daenerys almost ran to the stairs down so excited by the opportunity to see the greatest of all their family’s Dragons. “Shall we catch up with her?” Rhaenys was getting bored, Viserys could tell and Aegon was tettering, but Aegon soaked up Daenerys’ enthusiasm and quicken his pace to follow. Viserys guessed Aegon just wanted to follow Daenerys as close as possible, to try for an errant touch. He had noticed Aegon’s growing interest in his sister. He was not worried so long as daenerys was pure when they married, if they married. If they didn’t, Viserys did not care about her maidenhood. He stopped.

“What?” Rhaenys asked as she got to his shoulder.

“Just thinking about something.” He started walking again. He changed his mind, even if Daenerys was to marry Aegon instead, the little Crowned Prince could wait to consume his wife, it wasn’t like he was waiting to consume other women.

Daenerys was so overwhelmed by the sight of Belarion the Dread Black’s skull she just stopped, moving, breathing, speaking, even blinking. Viserys smiled, he knew she would react like this. The awe spread to their other companions, as all the younger Targaryens went forward to stand as close to the massive bone as they could.

“You can touch it, he won’t break.” Viserys whispered in Daenerys’ ear as he watched her hand twitch to touch the ancient skull.

Belarion had teeth taller than a man and the horns upon his head reached to the vaulted ceiling. The room was expansive, but the skull made it look like a closet. Even just bone, Belarion was terrifying, there was an aura around this skull that had not been around the smaller ones, as if he would blink and his skin would return. The bones felt warm to Daenerys’ fingers, they should not, maybe it was just the heat of the catacombs. This was amazing. Why was she learning to sew when she could be down here, with him?

“It is getting late, we should either stop here or move on.” Viserys thought he had achieved his goal though. The younger Dragons were no longer bored.

“We should finish it off.” Rhaenys said, always one to finish the whole before going back to enjoy the special parts.

“But, Belarion.” Daenerys said with sadness.

“He has sat he for centuries, he isn’t going anywhere.” Rhaenys counselled. Daenerys nodded, Rhaenys was older and had more experience with life, she was probably right.

“I will bring you back everyday if you like.” Aegon whispered in Daenerys’ ear, pressing his body against her back. She did not like the feel of his closeness, or the excitement he was obviously feeling. Still it was a kind offer and he could not be blamed for his reactions, everything seemed to excite boys his age.

“Thank you, Aegon, I might hold you to that.” Daenerys replied. Aegon grinned with his joy, there were many things he could do with a pretty girl in the dark.

Viserys lead them through to the next level, it was dark, like light refused to go here, but the air was not stale as expected. The Torches were spaced far apart but they were still lit to give a dim view of the ground. Daenerys wondered if Viserys had set this up to be spooky and frightening, to make the atmosphere eerie for their adventure. They wandered two levels of Black Cells and found no one as expected and were on the last and final level almost ready to return to the surface as they saw a glow ahead at the end of the dungeon.

“What is that?” Aegon whispered. Viserys shrugged.

“Oh, well done Viserys.” Rhaenys said with amusement.

Viserys had no idea what she spoke of this wasn’t him, as they turned the corner, they all worked that out, because Viserys had no power to set that up. Sitting at the end of the corridor before a cell, the last Black Cell, was Sir Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, oiling his sword. Sitting on a chair with a table before him, this did not look like a short stay.

“Never place your sword into its scabbard without cleaning it first, no matter how long you have been fighting or how tired you are. I do not care if you are about to pick up a baby off the battlefield, never put your sword away tarnished. Plant it in the ground or lay it down, but never taint your scabbard. You have to respect your sword.” Sir Hightower stared into the cell as if waiting for a response. “Good.” He must have gotten it.

“I know Arthur would have said all this to you before, but sword care is very important. You must treat her like she is your beloved wife.” The Knight again looked into the cell. “Do not give me that look, I am not some old dottery man.”


	3. Another Descent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The young Dragons are drowning in their curiosity, a prisoner guarded by the king’s own elite guards.   
When Prince Viserys dared the younger Dragons to descend into the darkness to find monsters and get their heart’s racing in excitement, he had not expected to find a mystery with them. As they follow their curiosity and find out more about this prisoner. Viserys’ sister, Princess Daenerys' heart is racing for a different reason. As the Dragons do not encounter a monster but a mystery. A boy locked in a Black Cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very slow write I think, what with other two fictions.  
Likely to have many small chapters.

It was curious, why would the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard be guarding a cell, a Black Cell, and why was he talking with such comfort to whatever prisoner occupied the cell? The Leader of the King’s own elite guards, guarding a prisoner and not another guard in sight.

One afternoon of daring and distraction turned into another as the young Dragons excused themselves as soon as they could from their commitments to meet for another descent. Even the perfectly bored Viserys was roped into help them get through to the lower levels, they did not stop at the symbols of their family’s reign or at the great skulls, they raced as safely as they could to the Black Cells, the very last cell.

Lord Commander Hightower did not sit at the table today, the table was shoved out to the side and Sir Oswell Whent stood on one side of the cell entrance with a knife in hand, he tossed it and it flew to the other side skewering an apple that came out of the cell to the wall.

“What did I say? I told you I could do it.”

“I did not say you couldn’t, just said it would be easier if you gave me a knife to cut my apple myself.” A youthful male voice responded. The Dragons secreted behind the corner of the corridor all looked around at each other. The prisoner sounded the same age as them, they expected an old man, or at least the age of the Kingsguards.

“Did you hear that?” Aegon whispered to Rhaenys.

A hand came out from between the bars, the ragged end of a black shirt with a torn cuff covered the arm behind it. The kingsguards went to the wall to pull the apple free then walked it back to place it in the boy’s hand.

Viserys quickly sat back. He was not a child to be fascinated by a strange boy in a cell. Yes, it was peculiar, but his father was not called the Mad King for nothing. He could have seen the boys black hair thought of Robert Baratheon and imprisoned him, that would not be unthinkable for his father. It would explain why the kingsguards were his guards, but really he could be here for any number of insane reasons. It was too exhausting to try to discern his father’s mind, so he just let it go and pandered to him, keep him friendly until he died and Viserys got the throne. Viserys looked at Aegon as the other boy looked down at the top of Daenerys’ head. Aegon may be an obstacle, he would need decide what he wanted to do about him.

Aegon gazed across the distance to the cell and his eyes narrowed. Sir Oswell Whent was one of the kingsguards that were comrades of his father’s, Crowned Prince Rhaegar. Oswell Whent had little to no time for Aegon, his friend’s son. He only guarded him when rostered and would never accept the swapping of duties if the swap meant he was to watch Aegon out of sequence. Aegon had always felt Sir Whent did not like him. Yet, this man who couldn’t even be neutral with him, always wearing a grimace, was smiling and jesting with a prisoner.

“Now do not fill up on sweets and ruin your dinner.” Oswell joked with the Black Cell Boy.

“Alright.” The voice came out of the cell. “What is dinner?”

“Some slosh the cook made.” Oswell looked into the bowl before him and grimaced, it looked disgusting.

“Oh, Slosh. My favourite.” There came a reply that mocked excitement.

“Fill up on your apple, this looks like … swine swill.” Oswell was tempted to tip it, it didn’t even smell good, but he knew the lad would not get anything to replace it if he did.

“I will take your advice good sir.” The boy spoke from his darkness. The royal children watched as the kingsguard slid the bowl into the cell. The same hand appeared out of the darkness to drag the bowl back and then it disappeared.

All was quiet in the Black Cells for near on half an hour, Viserys had wandered off and Rhaenys and Aegon were getting fidgety, Aegon wander back to the stairs to the upper level, tired of the non-event. Rhaenys had sat back and was playing with the hem of her skirt. Daenerys however glimpsed around the corner every few moments to catch a glimpse of the owner of the voice. Rhaenys looked around the corner when they heard the scrape of the bowl on the floor, The hand pushing it out for the knight to take. Rhaenys watched for maybe another half an hour and got bored again, wandering off to find Aegon and possibly Viserys. Daenerys however was not distracted she keep up her vigil to see this prisoner, and just as she heard the light sneaking steps of her Aegon behind her, she saw him, the prisoner sounded like a boy because he was a boy. All her companions had made their way back to her by the time he stood at his bars.

He was about the age of Daenerys and Aegon, probably closer to Daenerys’ age and his hair was black and curled, his face was handsome, would probably have been more so if he was smiling. Though living in a Black Cell was most likely the reason he was not smiling. His clothes looked old and ragged as if he had worn them for a long time, and they did not fit well. Daenerys figured if they were ragged, he had probably grown too big for them and did not get them replaced often. She supposed that depended on how long he had been imprisoned.

Daenerys felt herself gasp and Viserys turned to stare at her and placed his finger to his lips to tell her to be silent. She shrank back, unsure why she had had an audible reaction. She edged her head around the corner lucky as the youngest and shortest she was at the bottom of the face line, so no one was below her and could really note her reaction. She was not of an age to be interested in boys, but she found she had to acknowledge that for annoying, uninteresting boys, that one was handsome. Would grow to be a very handsome man she would guess. Some of her fascination was she had never seen a boy with such dark hair, mostly she saw Aegon and Viserys, with their silver hair and even the occasional other boys had golden to brown hair, none had black. She had only seen full grown men with black hair, and they did not have lovely curls like this boy did.

Viserys indicated they should get back before they were missed. He regretted the dare yesterday, and going back today as once far enough away Daenerys did not stop talking, it was not entirely like her. She was asking a thousand questions about how it could be the boy was there and why and who he was. Viserys had to pull her up before they returned to the ground level of the Keep.

“It is all very curious, but we are not allowed down there and if you keep talking, we will never have the opportunity to go back down and find out anything.” Daenerys quietened immediately and said not another word about the Black Cell Boy, but she still thought her questions at a thousand a second.


	4. First Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After they ascend into the light, Princess Daenerys’ thoughts remain in the darkness, wondering about the Boy in the Black Cell. Who was this dark boy in a dark place?  
Daenerys gets to talk to the boy.  
Re-Release: Missed on Front page, thanks for heads up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are short chapters and I plan presently to have a chapter per meeting or event.  
As the story progresses they will spend more time together and the chapters will get longer.

Daenerys was filled with curiosity about this mysterious boy locked down deep in the darkness. He could not be imprisoned for a crime, wasn’t he too young to have committed a heinous crime? She had a terrible curiosity normally and this mystery right in her own home was too intriguing to ignore. She asked Viserys if they would go down the next day and he said she could do as she wished but what was the use, it was a political thing most likely. Rhaenys and Aegon however were happy to go down and find out more. The third day saw Sir Arthur Dayne watching the lad, Arthur sat next to the bars and talked low and quiet to the boy, so the spies could hear nothing.

Day four, brought Sir Hightower back to watch and day five Sir Whent again. They discovered the pattern of Hightower, Whent and Dayne. Only the three, and they seemed to guard the lad with some affection. Eventually even his desire to be with Daenerys wore thin for Aegon to sneak down to discover the story of some mystery boy. He was not interested in a rival for the princess’ thoughts, so he flatly refused one day about two weeks after they had first seen this mystery.

“I am no longer wasting my time.” He said arrogantly. “It is a prisoner and we are royalty.”

“Okay.” Daenerys shrugged and turn around and walked away toward the door down. Aegon rushed after her.

“You aren’t thinking to go down there alone?”

“No, Rhaenys is coming.” He looked to his sister, she knew he wanted to marry Daenerys, and she was not stopping Daenerys from pursuing this fantasy of a boy. Rhaenys just shrugged as well.

Rhaenys was willing to hang on for another week but even her interest petered out because they could not go near the cell and no one spoke about the boy above ground, and she wanted out of the Red Keep not to dig further into it.

So, it was Princess Daenerys found herself facing the possibility of sneaking down to try and discern this mystery all alone. It had proven not to be dangerous so far but still it was deep and dark; and she would be alone. Was some boy in the depths of her home worth it?

So, for one day Daenerys also stopped if she must go alone. No boy was that interesting and he would always be there, he was a prisoner after all.

“See brother, patience has seen Daenerys bored with the boy. You can still marry her.” Rhaenys spoke quietly to her brother Aegon. He had no patience. It could see him in trouble. If their grandfather found out Aegon hadn’t patiently waited to marry Daenerys and had gone sowing his seed elsewhere, he would refuse to allow Aegon to have his daughter as his wife. Aerys was always saying, ‘_his_ Aegon would make Daenerys a very happy wife.’ Rhaella, their grandmother, did not look as certain, but she softly let it be. Though Rhaenys could say, her grandfather was right, Aegon was getting proficient and by the time they wed, Daenerys could find him making her very happy indeed.

“I thought she would stop going when I did.”

“Oh Brother, you were not the reason our aunt went down there, that is why I continued, as boring as it was, I kept her thinking she could as long as she wanted. Now she doesn’t want to.”

The princess stared down at the embroidery project in her lap, she looked around the room at the other diligently sewing women. They chatted about things she had no interest in: fashion, hair, men and marriage. Elia and Rhaenys were gossiping about ladies in the realm, and who was laying in whose bed; even hinting at what they did while they were there. It was all a tad over Daenerys’ ‘want to know’ basket, she did not even want to think about the subject of husbands and marriage, or men in general. She felt she was too young for that discussion. Rhaenys was however much beyond being ready to marry, and not just because she was six and a half years older than her Aunt Daenerys, but because she was ready to leave the Red Keep and see something else.

Daenerys was about learning about the world and that did include a mystery boy, but it was not about husbands or marriage. It was about adventure. She had not been brave enough to go alone, but she figured as she stared at the mess of her needlework she needed to do something in her life not dictated by others. She stood and stretched her arms, then walked to the window, she gazed out into the courtyard below, her eyes drawn to the path to the lower levels.

“I think I will go for a walk in the garden.” She said knowing the ladies were too busy gossiping to offer to accompany her. She calmly walked to the door down and then remained at a stately pace until she got to the last level of Black Cells. Then she rushed up to the corner and peered around to see, Sir Hightower sitting at his chair.

“What are you doing?” The boy’s voice asked. Daenerys did not always see the boy on her trips, but she got to hear him every time. She liked his voice, it had a strange accent. Did that mean he came from somewhere else?

“Writing.” Sir Hightower stated.

“Amazing! What are you writing?” The boy sounded enthusiastic and high energy.

“I am updating the White Book.”

“What fantastic adventures have you and the other guards had out there in the sun?” He sounded so happy, how could he? Daenerys lived in the sun and wasn’t that happy or excited about anything. Except coming down into the dark to listen to a boy she knew nothing about.

“Nothing fantastic.”

“Me, neither. Write that down. I too have had no fantastic adventures of late.” The boy’s voice was light as if that might happen and Sir Hightower laughed. Daenerys had never heard the Lord Commander laugh before, he was as serious as his station was important.

“I must step away boy.”

“Of course.” Came the answer. Daenerys watched Sir Hightower exit out another door she hadn’t been aware was there, until he opened it and disappeared. She crept closer to get a better look at this prisoner before the knight returned. She kept in the shadows and raised her cloak over her unmistakable silver hair. She thought she was doing really well, not making any sound, staying out of the light.

“You are in a very dangerous place. There are rapists and murderers down here. No one comes here of their free will, why are you sneaking around?” He had a lovely voice. She knew he was wrong there were no murderers or rapists down here. Her father had sent many of them off to The Wall, only a week before Viserys dared them to descend. In fact he was the only one down here.

“Which are you? A rapist or a murderer?” He was surprised to hear a girl reply.

“I don’t know what I am. It must be pretty awful though considering how long I have been here.”

“How long have you been here?” She crept closer so she could see him. He looked up at her with dark intelligent eyes. There was very little in the cell with him. so he sat on the floor.

“What is a highborn lady doing down here in the bowels of hell?” His clothes were simple but in good condition and although dirty, not as much as they should be, he must have had them changed recently from the rags he had worn. The light of the torches flickered to show he had handsome features and a mop of dark curls. Just as she had thought he did, and closer, they were more splendid.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She was so curious, she had a thousand questions for him to answer.

“You haven’t answered any of mine.” He didn’t seem to recognise her. Her silver hair may have been covered by her cloak but surely the colour of her eyes was a clue for him. Everyone in King’s Landing knew her by sight, how could he not know who she was, still it was probably best he didn’t.

“Well what makes you think I am a highborn lady?” She asked.

“Your speech; the fact you are clean; your clothes and cloak are of a fine quality.” He took a deep breath. “You smell like honey and roses.” She blushed for some reason, it wasn’t her first compliment but for some strange reason this prisoner boy‘s words made her feel all warm inside.

“You still didn’t say how long you have been here.”

“You still haven’t answered any of my questions.” He paused momentarily, “Maybe you aren’t a lady. Surely a lady would know her courtesies and wouldn’t be so rude.” There was a hint of humour in his voice. She knew he was trying to provoke her by his words and she almost bit but calmed herself.

“Well you said it was dangerous down here, so I am just being safe.” She smiled at the reason she came up with.

“Then be safe my lady and run away from this horrid place. I would if I could.” Suddenly his voice was cold and ominous. The joviality disappeared and he spoke low.

“How long have you been here?” This time her voice was soft.

He took a deep breath and sighed just as deeply. “As long as I can remember.” He looked around his cell and in a heartbreakingly sad tone continued, “I took my first steps in this cell. I don’t remember ever being anywhere else.” Daenerys almost wept. “If you are trying to get caught then you’re about to succeed, that is Sir Hightower returning.” She jumped up and ran off before the knight found her and took her to her father.

She heard the boy laugh as she disappeared and then a deep voice asked, “What are you laughing at lad?” She never heard his reply.

Rhaenys reprimanded Daenerys when she confided in her about her conversation with the boy. What if he’d grabbed her and hurt her. Daenerys didn’t believe he would do that. He didn’t seem evil or bad; he seemed very nice, but she didn’t say that to her elder niece, Rhaenys would just call her a silly naïve girl. Rhaenys must have relayed Daenerys’ adventure to Aegon as he came to her room blustering about how dangerous it was for her to do as she had, and how she was never to do it again. He even threatened to tell the adults what happened and what the boy had done.

“He did nothing Aegon.”

“That is not what I will tell Grandfather. I will tell him he dared to touch you and we know what grandfather will say and do. Send him to The Wall.” Aegon threatened.

“It would be a lie and he would defend himself because he didn’t do that.”

“Who will grandfather believe a prisoner or his heir?” Aegon’s arrogance was unattractive and Daenerys was disgusted by him at that point and told him to get out of her rooms or she would tell her father that Aegon had touched her.

“He would ask me and I would say I hadn’t.”

“Who will he believe, you or his beloved crying daughter?”

“You are not crying.” So, on cue Daenerys started to weep and sob, it was a talent she had and she would use it on Aegon if he threatened the only excitement she got in her life.

“Get out!” She screamed as if he had violated her. After she closed the door, she wiped her face and started making plans for visiting the Black Cell Boy tomorrow. Aegon shouldn’t play with Dragons if he didn’t like flames.


	5. The Queen's Namesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys tries to see the mystery boy without her entourage, so she might possibly talk to him again.  
It is a special day for the Keep and Aerys has an audience with his longest prisoner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short as I said.

“Have you developed a new hobby daughter?” Her father spoke out of nowhere over breakfast. She was worried Aegon had still snitched on her, how was she going to explain herself?

“No, Father.” She answered as she stared at her fruit.

“You have just been noted as disappearing a lot of late and disappearing for some hours.” Her father did not sound angry or agitated, just interested.

_ Weird_.

“Really?” She acted surprised as if she too had not known she was doing it.

“Yes.”

“Strange.” She shook her head at her mango.

“I find it so as well.” She could feel his eyes boring into her, so she just kept her head down and ate.

“I will take note of what I do today, and let you know at breakfast tomorrow.”

“No need I can have someone do that for me.”

_ Shit!_ How could she ditch this spy her father was going to set on her?

“Oh, Aerys. Let her tell you tomorrow and if you don’t like her records, then set someone tomorrow.” Her mother interceded. “I mean we don’t want you under protected because Daenerys loses herself in the flowers.”

“Good point. I am King I must be protected first.”

“Exactly.” Rhaella turned to her daughter. “Now we want a lovely story about today, my sweet. Okay?”

“Yes, Mother.” Daenerys saw her mother’s rescue and smiled in thank you. She supposed her mother knew all about imposing fathers.

For some reason Rhaenys would not leave her side today, she would think it was her father ignoring her mother’s advice, but it was more likely to be Aegon employing his sister to watch Daenerys. She sighed, she had been finding Aegon’s attention more exhausting of late, she wasn’t sure why. Aegon was aggravating Daenerys more every day. She gave up on her plan to go visit the Black Cell Boy and resigned herself to wandering the garden trying to sketch. Being a princess was so boring!

“Rhaenys.”

“Yes, Daenerys?” Her niece looped her arm in Daenerys’.

“Do you find being a princess boring?”

“Being stuck in the Keep yes, but there are still things we can amuse ourselves with.” Rhaenys smiled warmly at her. Daenerys thought it a shame Rhaenys was stuck in this Keep, she was quite beautiful and being cloistered here did not allow her the attention and courting from lords she deserved.

“For example?”

“Well, there is embroidery; sketching as we are doing now; and then we can paint and learn a musical instrument. Learn to sing and dance.”

“Dancing requires a partner.” Daenerys noted the flaw, slightly peevishly. She was upset with Rhaenys for curtailing her plans to see the Black Cell Boy, why should she have to miss seeing him for a day because Rhaenys would not leave her alone?

“Well it is not like there aren’t boys to practise with. We both have brothers.”

“Viserys won’t practise with me, he finds it _tedious_.”

“You could learn with Aegon.” Rhaenys put her brother forward. Her mother, Elia had been encouraging her children to endear Daenerys to the idea of her being Aegon’s bride, because Aerys was unstable, but if Daenerys wanted to be Aegon’s bride then Aerys would change his mind eventually for her wishes, because he was quite attached to his little girl at times. Other times, she was as ignored and punished as much as everyone else.

“Stealing your partner. I couldn’t.” And did not want to. What had changed? She had preferred Aegon as an idea over Viserys but as they aged, Viserys had little to demand of his sister, but Aegon’s had increased. And she was unnerved by his pressed interest, especially when sometimes he pressed more of himself. She knew he had little control of his … desires, but it made her feel uncomfortable. When she had spoken to her mother, she had assured Daenerys that as they aged men grew to control their arousal, but it was not something to be judgemental of Aegon about, apparently it would like asking a Dragon not to fly. Her mother said her discomfort had a lot to do with her own age and later she may appreciate the obvious arousal of a boy, arousing of itself for her. Daenerys was sure she wouldn’t. Boys were just sweaty and yucky.

So, Daenerys dragged Rhaenys around the gardens gathering flowers for her mother, she was determined to pick her the prettiest bouquet. With her mother’s favourite flowers in her favourite colours, she had even spoken to the kitchen to have a special little cake made. Viserys was sourcing something else to make it extra special.

“Hail, Boy.” Aerys grinned from his throne.

“Oh, I have a daft feeling I am going to hate today.” Jon said quietly to Sir Whent.

“Why is that?” Aerys asked as he had not quite heard the boy clearly.

Jon sighed tired. “How may I help you, your grace? Tell a humble servant how I may be of serve to my king.” Jon knew it did not matter how much reverence he gave King Aerys, the man would either be polite or cruel. The man was insane.

“We are going to have a nice little chat.”

“Are we? Fantastic!” He doubted it, but it had happened on occasion.

“Do you know what today is?”

_ Fuck! This never ends well_. Jon took a fortifying breath. “No, your grace. What is today?”

“It is my queen’s nameday.”

Jon found the day relieving, at least it wasn’t one of the usual days Aerys asked that question about and then tortured Jon with. “How lovely.”

“It is. My grandchildren however have forgotten.”

“That is a shame.” Jon said sympathetically. The queen had always been kind to him, and he thought if she were his grandmother, he would do something nice for her.

“They should remember.”

“They really should.” Because they should. Queen Rhaella was generous and kind and he got the feeling she fielded a lot of interference for her husband.

“I mean it is alright if you do not know today is my queen’s nameday, but they are her grandchildren.”

“You are correct.” It was far safer to just agree with him. “Was there a service I could do for you about this?”

“What could you do for the queen from your cell?” Aerys asked as if Jon had made a stupid suggestion.

“I just thought… Did you just need someone to vent at, you could have come to my pretty cell and not had me hauled through your Keep?”

“Go down there?” Aerys looked at Jon with disgust.

“If you told me I would have cleaned it up, put up extra torches, made it all nice for my king to visit.” Jon’s voice was light and friendly, it was all he could do to keep Aerys calm, he hated when Aerys was agitated, he hurt when Aerys was agitated.

“You are a good lad, but no you can come into the Light sometimes, I don’t want you getting some disease from living in the dark.”

“How kind of you. You do take such wonderful care of me.” Jon was obviously lying and by his expression Aerys knew it, but he smiled to himself, Jon was as he said a good boy.

“I asked you here as I said because it is my queen’s nameday.”

“And all your grandchildren forgot, the nasty creatures. So am I here to hear your rant, because you are disappointed with your grandchildren?” The word rant was questionable and dangerous but true most days.

“Not all of them.” Aerys said as he stared at the boy.

“So, one of them.” It was a safe bet he only had two grandchildren, the princess and the prince. Jon wasn’t even sure what their names were in truth. Why should he know or care? He would never know them, and they would never know him.

“Yes, I currently am not disappointed in one of them.” Aerys looked down at the only grandchild he had, that had reason to forget Rhaella’s nameday.

“As to what I could do, I could draw her a picture of what I think something looks like.”

“What you think something looks like?” That was confounding, _what he thought something looked like_.

“Yes, I haven’t seen much, or really anything, so it would have to be what I thought it looked like.” Jon lived in the depths of the Keep, he had only seen its depths and the small part of the Keep he passed when brought to have an audience with the king.

“Like what?”

“Belarion.”

Aerys huffed. “No, she has seen many pictures of Dragons. I know.” He smirked. “You have seen pictures of my son Rhaegar, you will sketch her a picture of him for her nameday. She will love the thought and she will be glad for it from me.”

“Rhaegar?” Of all things or people.

“Yes.” Aerys glared at Jon, daring him to anger him.

“I shall try my best.”

“Good. I will have charcoal and parchment brought down to you. And torches. If you do well I might even give you a reward.” Aerys then waved his hand and Sir Whent took him away.

“Was that weird? Because it felt weird? It was weird right?” Jon asked Oswell when they had left the king’s influence. “Weird?”

“It was not ordinary.” Oswell got to see Aerys outside of his audiences with Jon, and that was weird. The king rarely spoke kindly or even just sanely to people and Jon was even rarer to see a half-sane king usually he was hauled out and experienced pain at the king’s insanity. Oswell and the other Kingsguards, Gerold and Arthur saw the terror in Jon’s eyes every time he was told he would be having an audience with his grace. He had good reason, it was a miracle if Jon left the audience without a new scar or wound, not always physical, but always horrific. Oswell was amazed the boy had not broken and become as insane as the king.

Daenerys asked Rhaenys to follow her down to get something for her flowers from the catacombs, and Rhaenys had reluctantly agreed. Then as Daenerys rummaged around in the old Targaryen stuff as she said she would, Rhaenys went off to guard the door from Daenerys going down to the Black Cells. Daenerys did not notice because she really was looking for something for her mother and had given up on seeing the boy that day. So, she was surprised to hear a voice she recognised from the dark.

“Mostly.” It was the boy!

“I think you have done very well.” Sir Oswell replied.

“Captured his regal manner?”

“Captured his great heart.” Oswell praised the boy for something, and it did sound like true praise.

“Then I hope it is as well received by him as it has been by you. I have to just polish it and that is why I need to see this portrait. Are you sure it is here?” Jon was concerned he would anger the king and disappoint the queen. Life did not work well for him when the king got angry with him. Sometimes Jon wasn’t even sure what he did.

“The king banished everything but two portraits to here. It is here.”

“Will it really give me such a different insight?” There were days, Jon wished Prince Rhaegar had lived, not just for self-preservation that he would not be tortured so much by a mourning father, but because the Kingsguards spoke so well of him. Arthur would speak of how kind his prince was. Maybe if Rhaegar had lived, Aerys would not torture him for the death he had caused, the _him_ who had died because of Jon. Maybe Rhaegar would have stayed his father’s hand about punishing the boy. Jon wished Rhaegar had lived, so he would not fear death every time Aerys decided to talk to him.

“It will, it was painted by someone who captured his soul on canvas, you will see the true him.” Oswell looked at the lad and frowned, they could give Jon a mirror and ask him to draw himself and it would show Rhaegar’s true soul. It was why King Aerys could never complete his tortures of Jon, in Oswell’s opinion; Aerys saw Rhaegar and baulked. How could he kill the one child that had more Rhaegar in him behind his favouring of his mother’s colouring than the others, even the son who had Rhaegar’s colouring. Perhaps it was from knowing the boy, but Oswell did not see Rhaegar in Prince Aegon, he saw Aerys, hidden behind his mother’s features, for he had Elia’s chin and brow, but Aerys lived deep in his eyes. Jon was like a dark Rhaegar and that is why the Kingsguards that knew of his existence loved him, he was Rhaegar reborn. Sir Whent thought Aerys saw it too.

“I will have to believe you. I have one other question.” Jon broke Oswell out of his thoughts.

“Ask boy.” The knight smiled at him, he loved this boy, not just because he was a part of his dead friend but because he was a joy, he could brood and sulk, but he tried to be optimistic, when he had no reason to be. Jon also tried to be respectful and was well mannered.

“Why did you bring me with you to find it? Won’t you get in trouble for taking me out of my cell?”

“Technically I haven’t returned you to it yet.” Sir Whent said with what sound like pride.

“And they call you the moron Kingsguard.” Jon sounded impressed by his technicality.

“They do not.” Sir Whent said with some offense.

“They do, I swear as the sky is purple, they call you that.” The boy sounded sincere in his vow.

“The sky is blue.” Sir Whent answered his vow.

“Hmm. Interesting.” He knew that, from his readings, but he still wondered what it was.

“Ahh, here it is.” The knight must have moved something as various small items were heard to slide.

“Wow!” The boy breathed in awe.

“What?” Oswell turned to look at the boy.

“Are all Targaryen’s so glorious?” Daenerys eavesdropping blushed at the thought that a picture of someone who must be a Targaryen had caused the Black Cell Boy such an awed response.

“You have seen the King and Queen.”

“Yes, so there was half a chance.”

“Are you insulting the king’s appearance?” Sir Whent asked with obvious mirth.

“The king is perfectly fine.” The boy went silent, Daenerys wondered if he had seen her father lately. “For a person who has been on sabbatical in the wilderness for a decade.” Sir Whent laughed loudly and with great mirth, it echoed around the cavern. Daenerys giggled as quietly as she could because the boy was not wrong, her father was scruffy. She wondered though how often the boy had seen her parents, surely her mother would not abide a child being left to rot in a cell.

“I will have to tell Hightower and Dayne that one.”

“So-o, I have to finish this.” He did not need the king to find fault with him.

“Well let’s get you back to your cell and I will try to remember to lock the door this time.”

“And you wonder why people say you are the idiot Kingsguard.”

“Why? Are you saying I should lock prisoners in?” Sir Oswell mocked out a moronic voice and cadence.

“Usually that is how it is done.” The boy and knight bantered like old friends.

“Well, thanks for telling me.”

“You are welcome, I would hate you to be punished because I escaped.”

“Where would you go?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what is out there.”

“The prettiest thing in the world is in this Keep.”

“Belarion?” Oswell laughed again, to think the boy would believe an old Dragon skull was pretty.

“No, Princess Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. They say she is the most beautiful girl in the world.” Oswell Whent informed the boy and Daenerys felt herself blush, she also found herself straining for the boy’s answer.

“Huh, I couldn’t say.”

“Because you haven’t met her.”

“Because I haven’t seen the world.” Somehow Daenerys hoped he would think she was as the tales said, even if she had never care about the saying before.

Rhaenys was back within moments having heard the crash Sir Whent had made. “What was that noise?”

“Rats.” Daenerys said, figuring Rhaenys was here to ensure she was loyal to Aegon.

“Rats?” Rhaenys looked around worried.

“They scurried away. I found the cloth I was after shall we head up?” Daenerys just started walking toward the doors up.

They had a special dinner for her mother’s special day. Her father and brother seemed extra offended Aegon and Rhaenys seemed to have forgotten what the day was, but they were saved by Princess Elia producing a finely embroidered cloak she had made for her good-mother. Daenerys gave her mother her flowers and Viserys had a lovely Dragon pedant for the queen. The last person to gift her mother their present was her father. It was a framed picture.

Queen Rhaella gasped and tears immediately came to her eye, as her hand went to cover her mouth. She started to bite her lower lip and she looked up at her husband with gratitude and love.

“I knew you would like it.” His voice was not screechy or loud, it was soft and loving. A tone his daughter had rarely heard in company.

“Aerys… Oh, it is divine.” Rhaella shook her head in awe of the masterpiece in her hand. She turned the frame to show the rest of the table, the younger three recognised the person, though only Rhaenys had ever known him. It was a sketch of Rhaegar, and he looked out of the picture as if he was really there. His hair was half up in a braid and his eyes looked kind and wise. The sketch only captured his upper torso but the detail on the shoulders of his coat were meticulous. Elia was caused to use her napkin for a handkerchief to dry her eyes. “How did you…?”

“Remember how brilliant he was with his hands?” Aerys replied, as if that explained the picture. “That artistry has not been lost in this world.” Her mother looked at her father with questioning, but she seemed to understand whatever code he was using.

“I will treasure it then.” Rhaella smiled at the picture. Within herself she was gladdened to have a gift done by her last grandchild’s hand, it made it more special to think Jon had sketched his father for her and done such a wonderous job. As she looked again to her husband, sometimes his madness seemed a thousand miles away. She wished it would be far enough away for him to release Jon, but that he did this for her, and let her know it was also from Jon, gave her hope, her little Direwolf grandson would one day see the freedom of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next. Daenerys will see the boy in a different setting, and learn another level to his mystery.


	6. Thoughts of a Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Jon insight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know people who read my other fictions are used to long epic Chapters but for now this fictions will have short ones.

According to Sir Arthur Dayne, the queen had adored her gift from the king, she wished to thank the artist. Jon thought that was not a good idea. The queen couldn’t come down here, it was dusty, and it was dirty and every other time he had encountered the queen had been when he had been going or coming from an audience with the king. She had never come here. Here was not worthy of her presence. It wasn’t worthy of anyone’s presence, he understood the Kingsguards had to come down, because he had to be guarded, but even they should not lower themselves to enter here.

Thinking of how despicable this place was, as clean as he tried to keep his cell, he thought he should be thoughtful of that girl, that was a lady, that smelled divine. Well, he should tell her she should not sink into these depths. Then he thought she may never come back anyway. The thought saddened him. It shouldn’t. He didn’t want visitors, not here. He however had to admit it was nice to have one. It was nice to smell something sweet for a change. It was also very nice to hear a soft voice rather than the masculine voices of the three Kingsguards that kept him.

Jon looked at the portrait he had used as a muse for the sketch he had created for the Queen, they hadn’t removed it yet. Crown Prince Rhaegar. Jon knew that name, knew how he was the perfect prince, the perfect person. Jon knew how he died for no reason, that is not true. Jon feared he died because of him. He wasn’t sure how the prince died, wasn’t entirely sure why. The king had a tendency to say ‘he’ died because of Jon, that it was Jon’s fault. Then terrible things tended to happen to Jon as the king mumbled and scowled at him. Their last meeting was not the normal way their audiences proceeded. Jon thought the ‘he’ was Prince Rhaegar. But so many people had died at the time of his birth there was an entire war’s worth of dead, any of them could be his fault, all of them could be.

That was another reason the nice smelling girl should stay away; Jon was bad luck. People never seemed to come back, after associating with Jon, he could only imagine the king had them killed to make Jon’s life just a little more painful. It did not matter if he just discouraged them, banished or tortured them to death, no one ever returned. Only the Kingsguards. Jon did not really have many people visiting him over his life, but he never saw anyone twice. He suddenly hoped the girl was alright. His features dropped in concern, which had Sir Arthur looking at him with his own concern.

“Problem lad?” Arthur did not want Jon to suffer anymore than the boy already did.

“No, why should there be?” Jon did not want to tell anyone he had be blessed to have a visitor, in the event they did not know, and she was not in trouble. He would hate to get the girl in trouble, she seemed genuinely nice and kind, even if she hadn’t answered his questions. He thought he was probably rude to inquired information from her, after all she was a lady and he was only a prisoner. Not even a well-born prisoner, his reading had told him he was a bastard born, due to his last name or probably lack of one really. He wondered if that was how it went, you didn’t so much have a bastard last name, you just had no real name, so you got the generic name.

“No reason.” Arthur smiled. Jon was a terrible liar, never having had cause to try to be a good one. He got in trouble whether he told the truth or lied, so the lad did not bother to lie. It made him more honourable than most men Arthur knew. Then again, honour was born into the boy’s blood, how could he help but be honourable?

Jon nodded thinking he had gotten away with his lie, because he had absolute trust in Arthur Dayne. The knight was the Sword of the Morning, the greatest swordsman in the land, which Jon had read was Westeros. It could be wrong, he never saw outside, so it could be a giant hoax for all he knew. The King may even be a fake. What did it matter? In Jon’s world the king was a madman and real and so were his walls. It did not matter, if it were some colossal joke, it was where he lived. It also was not funny. None of it was funny. So, it must be real, because surely there was nowhere that the life, he lived would be considered acceptable. He couldn’t get depressed by it, but he did not like it.

Jon looked again at the portrait of the Crowned Prince. His face was handsome, as far as Jon could tell, and his eyes kind, but they held great sadness. Maybe the king was cruel to his son, as he was cruel to Jon. Well, not in the same manner, Jon doubted the Queen would allow her son to be tortured like Jon was. Still his indigo eyes looked sad like he knew doom followed him, like he was waiting for his end and it was going to be painful. Jon knew that feeling, one day whatever amused King Aerys about Jon would fade and then the king would have no reason to keep him alive. Then Jon would die, and he was sure it would be very painful, and it would be terribly lonely. Or maybe one day no kingsguard would come, he would starve and die alone because Aerys was finally done with Jon being alive.

It was the reason he tried to stay bright and buoyant because he was very scared of the day it went dark. Be optimistic because he dreaded, what was really coming for him; Darkness and loneliness. He would go to his Gods – he did not know who they were – with a smile, because even Hell could not equal Jon’s life. He rubbed the line on his arm, once it had been a slice, a slice he never wanted to feel again.

“Is your arm paining you, Jon?” Arthur asked with some anger. He hated to see the lad harmed as Aerys harmed him and there was no avenue to save him from the king’s insanity. Arthur did not know what he would do the day Aerys went too far, the day his honour and oaths were truly tested. He did not know he would not follow Jaime Lannister to the executioner’s block.

“No.” Again, the lad thought he could delude the knight. Sir Arthur would feel badly if he thought Jon was in pain, would feel guilty if he knew the night terrors Jon suffered form his audiences with the king.

“Alright.” Arthur nodded to confirm Jon’s own delusion that he had succeeded at alleviating Arthur’s worry. Arthur knew too many of Jon’s secrets, probably all of them. Unlike Sir Hightower and Sir Whent, Arthur’s vigil did not stop when the night came. Arthur only ever missed watching the lad as he slept if he had another duty. He would sleep just beyond Jon’s perception, making sure the boy was safe. He had made promises, sworn oaths, he would watch until his death.

“Arthur, will someone be taking the portrait soon?” Jon asked softly, worried the answer would be in the affirmative. He did not know why but he liked having it in his cell, it made him feel… like his life wasn’t so bad. Not because of the Doom in the prince’s eyes – telling Jon his life could be worse – but for the warmth that came out of the painting, and at the very back a joy. Jon liked the smile the prince had been painted with, it was loving, and it was not an expression Jon experienced much.

“Did you wish it removed?”

“No!” Jon blurted out quickly, in case Arthur snatched it away, and why wouldn’t he? Jon never got to keep anything, but he desperately wanted a little extra time with this painting, even if he had no purpose. “I was just asking.” He said quietly and slowly.

“I doubt any would seek it, it was buried in the catacombs.” Arthur reassured the boy and he looked relieved to know he had longer to spend in its presence. _Perhaps he senses it_.

“I do not know why, it is a wonderous painting.” Jon just gazed at it, wishing he had the talent.

“It hurts to see, for some.” Arthur answered.

“I would think such beauty would heal.” Jon sighed at the picture of a prince that would be an honour to meet, he was sure. Or maybe he was just trying to live a dream. The boy frowned and grew a pout that Arthur was used to.

“What is it, Jon?” Arthur asked quietly.

“It is just such a shame that he is not in the world. I mean, I feel the world would be better to have kept him. I wish I could have met him.”

“He would have loved you.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” Jon said with a smile and his usual humility.

“I was his best friend. He would have loved you.” Arthur said with a determination to his voice that Jon doubted, but who was he to question this knight?

“That is because: I am delightful.” Jon beamed at Arthur and he saw a smile he had not seen in years; from a face he missed every day.

“You are.” Arthur grinned; Jon really was delightful.

_ I wonder if the girl that smelled of Honey and Roses, would think me delightful?_ It shouldn’t matter. He would never see her again, but it did matter, and he wished if only one person was ever to frequent his life twice, it would be her. He had no idea why he wished it, but he did.

Jon picked up his book and started reading, it was about the Dance of Dragons, he did like the tales of old Targaryens, his favourite was Daeron the Young Dragon, quickly followed by Aemon the Dragon Knight. He thought it amusing that he loved their stories so much when the person he should hate the most was a Targaryen. Yet, somehow despite it all, Jon did not hate Aerys, he did not like him, but he did not hate him. He was determined to read every book he could so he could argue his points with the king when he got older and understood his place in the world better. He wanted to be the best educated prisoner in all of Westeros. No, the world. Maybe it should depress him that he believed he would never be free, but he would die quickly if he did not believe in the Light. He could not experience the world in body, so he would know it in word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Daenerys sees the Black Cell Boy again, somewhere she was not expecting.


	7. Dreams of Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys sees the boy again, in a wholly unexpected place.  
She learns a name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was surprised how man people were upset for Jon, and although this is still a part of my original blurb, I added to it so you saw Jon soldiers on.  
Warning: There are some harsh parts ahead before Jon will be 'freed'. Not this Chapter.  
Also I have no plans for little conversations so, as fluffy as that would be, it is not part of the plot yet.

The next time she saw the boy he wasn’t in his cell. He was in the catacombs under the Red Keep but above the dungeons. He was sitting inside the mouth of the skull of Belarion the Dread – the greatest dragon her family had ever had – lounging actually. Even Rhaenys, her companion at the time gasped.

Rhaenys had accompanied Daenerys on a trip down to the depths, because she saw a spark of fire in her aunt, a spark Daenerys had not had before. She wondered if Daenerys was so bored with court life that a mystery was her cure. Aegon ranted about the seeming **obsession** his bride-to-be had with this lad. Rhaenys thought he was jumping the line, their grandfather still would not commit to Aegon taking Daenerys as his bride and there had been more than enough chances to announce it or speak to their mother regarding it. Daenerys said she did not know what her father had decided as some days he still spoke of her marrying Viserys. Rhaenys wished the old man would die or decide, she herself was more than ready to marry and leave the Red Keep. For now, Daenerys’ obsession with finding the answer to the conundrum kept her away from other boys, so Rhaenys told Aegon to be patient and grateful.

“He is very handsome for a prisoner.” Rhaenys breathed. Maybe Aegon did not need to know this boy was quite this attractive, no wonder if Daenerys had seen him closer, she was amazed.

They both gasped when a great white beast stepped around him and growled. “Oh, Ghost stop being so irritable. I know you hate the collar and chain, and then muzzle even more, but Sir Dayne won’t take us for walks if you put on your angry face.” The beast turned to regard the boy.

“I do not take you for walks.” The knight sounded annoyed.

“Really? So, what would you call it?” He quirked a dark brow over his dark eyes. For a boy living in darkness he seemed to be quite bright in demeanour.

“Well. ‘walks’ infers I have a leash on you.”

“What do you call this?” He shook his right leg which clanked as the chain hit the Dragon’s teeth. “It feels like a leash, all I need is a muzzle and Ghost could be my twin.”

Sir Dayne sighed deeply. “You don’t make this easy you know.”

“I know, I should really stop being such a gloomy person. There are people that would pay to live like me. … Oh wait, no there aren’t, because no one would want my life.”

“Jon …” A great sadness came over the knight.

“Oh, do not stress Sir Dayne, I do not blame you for any of these circumstances I live in. However, as I am not going anywhere,” He shook his foot and chain again. “Could I have some peace and quiet? You know some alone time with my Direwolf and my Dragon. Thanks.” Sir Dayne laughed as he got up and headed out one of the many doors.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t!” The boy, Jon called once again shaking his chain. “Well Ghost, Belarion now he’s gone let’s escape.” He laughed and leaned his head against one of the skull’s teeth. “What does the sky look like Belarion? I have read it is blue and beautiful but what does blue even look like? I wish you could just come back to life and I could fly you out of here.” He stroked the Direwolf’s head and sat quietly until Sir Dayne returned after maybe ten minutes. “Time to descend again into hell?”

“Jon, please.” Sir Arthur sounded wounded.

“No, it is okay Sir Dayne, I know Hell is when the King decides I have to have an audience with him. He makes the Black Cells feel like paradise.”

“Queen Rhaella tries to help.”

“I know. Why? It would just be more merciful to let him kill me.”

“Don’t say that Jon.”

“It is true. I do not even know how I wrong him. Was it me? Or am I a substitute for a relative of mine he can’t torture?” They left the room and the rest of their conversation was lost to the girls.

Rhaenys was concerned by the appearance of this boy now she had seen him in light. He was very handsome and although Aegon too was very handsome, even she could see her brother paled in comparison. Also, the boy’s voice was low and hypnotic, when he had spoken to the skull. Somehow, he had a touch of a northern accent on some of his words, Daenerys had not mentioned that, but then Daenerys had had little opportunity to hear many Northmen speak, it any. Daenerys only really saw the royal family and their guards, she had very limited interactions with outsiders, when she did Sir Barristan Selmy was always there to remind any boy there were not here to woo the princess. Mostly Daenerys was her mother’s companion. Queen Rhaella was just as watchful of her daughter as her husband-brother was. Sometimes it seemed there was a great secret about how important her aunt was.

Rhaenys knew House Martell had an expectation of her brother, he was to be a ‘Dornish’ King, part of his requirements it seemed was to marry Daenerys, which the princess did not understand. Aegon was to be King because he was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, just as she was her father’s daughter, why would he even need a particular wife? It was understandable that with their grandfather’s madness, nothing was ever set and done, he swung from love to hate in an instant and he kept a tie rein on his relatives. Since her father’s death, her mother had never been allowed to visit her brothers in Dorne alone, or even with Rhaenys and her brother. Even when her uncles, Doran and Oberyn, visited they could have no private meetings. Always there was a guard of some sort. Aerys said it was to ensure his good-daughter’s safety as no one could be trusted and Rhaegar would want to know his **beloved** wife was safe. Aegon said of course, Rhaenys thought the king was sending some message because their mother never seemed comforted by that sentiment.

King Aerys also did not like her Uncle Oberyn’s wife, Cersei Lannister. Understandable, it had been her twin who tried to assassinate him. Her Aunt Cersei did not like the King either, she was resigned Rhaenys believed to being Oberyn’s bride, sometimes she even seemed half happy with it. Elia said she should be, Ellaria Sand, Oberyn’s main paramour, said her uncle was a man who knew a woman. Cersei was not happy that her uncle was not loyal, but then he was Dornish, what did the Lioness expect? Her uncle was not happy the king had forced a marriage on him, though could not complain about how beautiful his wife was. Cersei Lannister was a great beauty, with golden hair and bright fierce green eyes. She wore a masque of arrogance, something Rhaenys thought she inherited from her father Lord Tywin. It had not always been so, she remembered when they first married her new aunt had been sad and in her little opinion, she seemed scared, Rhaenys had tried to gift her a doll to make her feel better and her aunt had smiled a beautiful sad smile but refused to take it saying she was a Lioness and Rhaenys was in more need of its comfort. Cersei hadn’t been wrong, life in the Keep changed after the Upheaval. She had grown Rhaenys thought to love Uncle Oberyn, they had a son, and then a golden daughter and then every child died. Oberyn had more children, with other women and Cersei’s love soured. Oberyn had not cared, he had many women to love the wild prince he was. Cersei clung however to her only two children. Stefan and Jo’hannah were Cersei’s only delights and they were delights. Stefan was tall and dark like any Dornish prince, he was also steady of personality and his mind strong. Jo’hannah was small and golden like her mother, and her personality was light and kind, she was flower in the desert.

Cersei and Elia did not get on well, Elia tried very hard to be kind and open to the Lannister lady, because Cersei remained aloof from the Martells. Cersei usually glared at the princess and if she did talk to her it was with narrowed, suspicious eyes and clipped words. Usually there was a question about what Elia was trying to achieve, and reference to hiding because a fear of the sun revealing. Rhaenys did not know what went on between them but Cersei need only raise an eyebrow at times to cause her mother to stop talking and sit back.

Rhaenys actually admired her aunt at times. Because she was strong and smart and no one cowered her, not even the king, she would not tempt his insanity as Aerys hated Tywin and was not above punishing Cersei for his ‘crimes’, but she also did not pander as much as others. Cersei would not prattle false words, she just refused to speak at all. She also did not sew. She saw no point, what was thread on cloth going to achieve? It would win no wars. Still, Rhaenys felt her aunt was not happy in her marriage to her uncle, she was resigned.

Daenerys’ happy sigh snapped Rhaenys out of her musings about the politics of her family. Rhaenys had not known Daenerys to think much of boys at all, but this mystery boy had the petite princess’ attention. He was handsome, there was also something slightly familiar about him, but Rhaenys could not catch what, like it kept ducking into the shadows when she tried to perceive it. However, she needed to address this, would she call it a crush? This crush Daenerys had or was developing for the boy. It was of no use. Daenerys would marry Aegon, there were too many people working to ensure it. Also, the boy was a prisoner, what chance could there ever be? He was handsome though and there was an intensity to him, one that was very appealing. Who knew they had such a pretty plaything hidden in their keep? But a plaything Daenerys could not get attached to. The thought though that this boy was down here, made the Keep less terrible to live in, and maybe she could make use of him to alleviate her own boredom, one day. She would ask her grandfather on one of his good days to let her play with him, if he was still here is a year or so, as she was sure she would be.

“Arthur.”

“Jon.”

“When we were up there with Belarion, did you smell something?” Jon was sure he smelt the scent of Honey and Roses. Surely not, surely the girl could not have been around.

“I agree, Ghost needs a bath.” Arthur looked at the beast that ignored him, as it moved to the back of the boy’s cell.

“I meant a nice smell.” Ghost glared at Jon. “I was not saying you were bad smelling. I did not even notice you had a smell. Arthur said you stink, not me. Though now he mentions it, you are getting a tad, aromatic.” Ghost turned and walked away; Jon shrugged; Arthur smiled.

“Maybe you need a bath too.” Arthur smiled at the lad.

Over the next few days, maybe two weeks, Daenerys escaped Rhaenys to go down and visit the lad below. She had learnt the routine when was best to catch the various Kingsguards leaving and how long she had before they were likely to return, she would sneak forward and she and ‘Jon’ would have small conversations about things they had read in books they had both read. He asked her many questions about living in the Light then immediately asked her not mention, as he didn’t want to ruin the experience of learning it all for himself. He tried to find out who she was, they had a guessing game, where he would try to guess who she could be. She would ask about his time here and why he was here. He could never answer her, he gave her as many theories as she herself had. She would not have one visit a day but many little ones, remaining in the dungeons from dawn ‘til dusk, catching every moment she could and Jon seemed thrilled to have a visitor and would come to the front of his cell whenever his guards left as if indicating she should hurry so they did not miss a second of possible conversation. She still kept her hood up, to obfuscate her appearance and Jon never seemed offended. The great white beast lived in the cell with him, and sometimes it was the reason they got to have long conversations because Oswell and Arthur did take Ghost for walks and then Jon was left alone longer.

Jon knew so little of himself he could not tell her much, but she did learn, he had been here as long as he remembered, had taken his first steps here, into Arthur’s arms. Jon did not exactly remember it, but Arthur had recounted it to him, so he did to her. She found it strange that this boy spoke of kingsguards by their first names.

“It sounds like you speak of friends.”

“They are my friends the only ones I have ever had, probably ever will have.”

That was sad and it was stinging when he said that, because she wanted to be his friend and would wish he would say she was. “Oh.” She said sadly.

“Maybe when I guess your identity correctly you will have no reason to wear that hood and we can be friends.” He had heard her sorrow, and he did think of her as a friend, but if they truly were, she wouldn’t still be hiding. Everyday he told her not to return to this horrible place, just to see the curiosity that he was and every night he recited why she shouldn’t but everyday he rejoiced when she returned. He talked deep into the night to Ghost of the Girl of Honey and Roses.

Not everyday did she get to avoid everyone and spend her days waiting for the boy. The irony was she was getting quite good at embroidery as she needed something to do as she waited for the guards to take time away. She had been embroidering white wolves and had gotten strange looks on the days she was caused to stay above ground and sew with the ladies, people – not Rhaenys – were curious to the inspiration for the embroidery. One night, Viserys asked her directly, because her room was slowly filling with white wolves.

“Tell me sister, what is this obsession with white wolves?” She stared at him, afraid to answer.

Her father’s attention was suddenly on her and he gazed long and silently at her. Her mother, the queen was about to try to say something when he spoke. “I would imagine little Dany has heard tales and is putting her imagination to work.” Her father’s voice was quieter and calmer than usual.

“What tales?” Viserys had heard nothing.

“There are tales of a great white wolf running the woods beyond the city on dark nights. Pursued by a white knight. As the only knights that wear their armour white are my kingsguard, they are ghosts as my aunt Jenny used to speak of.”

“Father, that is nonsense.”

“They say it is big enough to be a fabled Direwolf. Never this far south, but if your sister wishes to sew Direwolves she **can**.” Aerys got angry as he finished. He did not look at his wife’s worried expression just gazed at his daughter and smiled warmly at her.

So, it was that King Aerys, The Mad King, in his madness declared, so long as his princess was within the walls of the Keep, she was to be left alone to do as she willed, no one was to crowd her or bother her. That included her family, from her brother down, only her mother and he had the leave to ask for her time. She was allowed total freedom within the walls of their home. She used it well to no longer have to sneak around, she could go right to the corner of the corridor without question to wait for the guards to leave and Jon to be free to be her companion. Aegon did not seem pleased at all but what could he do, oppose the king?


	8. A Terrible Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aerys shows his madness and Daenerys sees her mother's wrath.  
The Keep must face a secret kept for many years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not added the violence at the beginning.  
Originally I could not write it, but here I decided I would avoid it as excess violence is not required.  
So, be prepared for violence to have occurred and be talked about but no written, also if I go too into it, I may lengthen his captivity and really we need to see him away from the Cell.  
This is mostly preposition and little dialogue.

A couple of weeks later as Daenerys was walking towards the throne room, she caught a glimpse of the boy shackled being led away bloodied and beaten from the throne room, down a side corridor, he leaned heavily on Sir Dayne.

“His grace was not happy that you did not beg for mercy or make a sound. I however am proud of your strength Jon. Do not let him break you.” Arthur spoke quietly.

“What did I do?”

“Nothing.” Arthur growled, angry at this offense.

“He said that it was my fault. That ‘he’ was dead because of me, his grace always says that but who is it that died because of me? Who is ‘he’?”

“It is not your fault.”

“His grace said today is the day, fifteen years. But I am not even that old yet.”

“It is not your fault, it was never your fault.” Sir Dayne’s voice was sharp with anger. “This has to end.”

“It’ll never end.” The boy’s voice was so forlorn, Daenerys was moved to tears and then uncontrollable anger. She stormed towards the throne room, her father would explain this!

As the princess entered the throne room her heart stopped, and all the steam went out of her sails. Men were moving a large cross shaped wooden device through the door, from the two utmost beams hung shackles caked with blood. One of the men held a cat-of-nine-tails whip, also dripping blood, while serving women attempted to mop up blood from the floor in the centre of the room. Daenerys almost gagged at the sight but worse was the joyous look on her father’s face as he watched the women sop up all the red gore. She stood in shock in the doorway disgusted by her father’s treatment of the boy from the Black Cell. Wait Sir Dayne had said his name, what was it? Jon, no longer would she think of him as an anonymous boy from a Black Cell, he deserved to be honoured more, he deserved his name.

Queen Rhaella swept into the room like a black storm. Her features frozen in anger. “What have you done?!” Her husband’s only response was to look up from the boy’s – Jon’s blood with a wicked smirk on his features and an insane glint in his eye. The Queen seemed to not even see her daughter as she raged on, this was a side of her mother she had never seen.

“A cursed on you Aerys! You are a monster! My only consolation is we all know you have sealed your own fate with this act. The Gods will not allow the blood to be spilled without a reckoning and this cannot be ignored!” With that she spun and stormed out the door, tears streaming down her face. Daenerys took one more look at her father’s atrocity and followed her mother. She could hear her mother calling for a maester, no, what she said was: “Every maester and physician in this bloody keep had better follow me if they wish to keep their heads!” A dragon had woken in her mother and it was spewing flames. Her mother moved quicker than Daenerys believed her capable of, she knew where she was, but she could never quite catch her, at most she caught a glimpse of her mother’s black skirts disappearing around a corner.

Daenerys caught her mother, the Queen at the boy’s … Jon’s cell. The gate was flung open and the Queen knelt in the boy’s blood, three kingsguard standing around her as she cradled Jon’s broken and bloody form.

“The pain was too great your grace, he has passed out.” Sir Hightower’s deep voice echoed around the cell.

“What did the King do?” Rhaella’s voice wavered with the intensity of her emotions.

“You do not want to know your grace.” Sir Arthur’s voice was so sad, Daenerys thought he must be weeping for the boy, but she saw his eyes were dry and terribly cold.

“You will tell me!” The Queen’s voice turned to iron.

Sir Hightower sighed deeply. “If the Queen wishes to know…”

“I will know.”

Sir Arthur cleared his throat. “The King called for Jon. We knew this would be a bad audience, after all it is the anniversary of the Battle. Jon knew he was in trouble, but the king commanded me to bring him. The King asked Jon if he knew what today was. Of course, he didn’t, how could he? The lad lives in a dungeon. Time is inconsequential here. Then they entered and I thought your husband would kill him this time.” Sir Dayne stopped speaking and closed his eyes as if trying to shut out the visions in his mind’s eye.

“Sir Arthur. What did they do? What did he have them do?”

“To be honest it was too terrible to speak about in the presence of ladies.”

“I am your Queen, I have been that monster’s wife since I was Jon’s age. I cannot be shocked by his cruelty.” The Queen had taken a cloth and was gently wiping the blood from the boy’s wounds. She didn’t even look up at the white knight.

“I was thinking of Princess Daenerys.” Sir Arthur Dayne replied nodding to the shaking girl at the cell door. She was staring wide-eyed at the battered boy in her mother’s arms and wondered at her mother’s gentle ministrations. She was so shocked she did not notice the master and the two physicians pass her and enter to help the queen.

Queen Rhaella’s head snapped around to gaze at her daughter, her eyes softened when they met the terrified eyes of her daughter.

“My sweet girl you should not have followed here.” Daenerys wanted her mother to hug her and make her feel safe, but she knew that would not happen, Jon needed her more. Rhaella turned back to Sir Arthur, “Daenerys will have to learn the truth about the nature of her father eventually.” Looking down at the boy she held tenderly, “And I think this vision will never leave her, so now is that time. Continue Sir Dayne, but perhaps you cannot be as graphic as I would demand.” The boy flinched as the physician touched him.

“Yes, your grace. The Trident was fifteen years ago today as you know.” The Queen nodded with sadness for the loss that day brought to their family. “The King said it was Jon’s fault, that it is because of Jon that he is dead.”

“Ridiculous.” The Queen spat. Daenerys understood a piece of the Jon puzzle. The Battle of the Trident. Her oldest brother, Rhaegar had died this day fifteen years ago, murdered by Robert Baratheon.

_So that must be it._ Thought Daenerys._ Jon is Robert Baratheon’s son, which is why father hates him so much._ She hated that part of herself agreed with him that the Baratheon’s suffering was warranted, but then she remembered the boy, Jon saying she smelled of honey and roses, and she could not hate him. Surely her brother whom she had never known but had heard much about would not wish this punishment on Jon even if he was Robert’s son.

A deep low growl brought Daenerys back to reality. The great white beast was unchained and unmuzzled, and extremely protective of its master. It was as if everyone suddenly remembered the danger they were in, the beast must only have listened to Jon because even the three kingsguards backed away. Daenerys saw her mother start to shake with fear, but she would not release the boy; the maester and physicians scrambled out of the cell completely.

“Ghost…” came a whisper of a voice, the beast dropped its head to nuzzle the boy’s mop of black curls and lick his face for comfort. Jon did not open his eyes and Daenerys thought he wasn’t even actually awake, he had just felt the beast’s anger as the beast must have felt the boy’s pain.

“So, for Rhaegar and his sword, fifteen sword cuts. For Robert and his hammer, fifteen strikes.” The queen raised a questioning eyebrow. “He was struck with fist and mace.” Was Sir Arthur’s explanation. “And for Jon and his defiance, fifteen lashes. One of each year of each. The whip was a specially made cat-of-fifteen-tails.” Both the ladies gasped, even one of the physicians took a sharp intake of breath. “He never faltered, he did not make a sound. He stared the Mad King down through it all. I believe the King was enraged more because he wanted the lad to beg for mercy, but he never did, he stayed defiant.” He paused to stare at the boy. “His father would be proud.” The queen let out a sob. “My Queen. The king’s cruelty is becoming out of control.” Sir Arthur’s words hung in the silence and the stench of blood.

“The boy must be moved. This cell is not conducive to healing.” The master interrupted the stillness. “If he is to have any chance of surviving this destruction of his body, he must not stay here.”

The queen looked at the old man, who was considered a minor man of his order here in the Red Keep, as usually all master duties fell to Grand Maester Pycell, who the queen noted had not answered her summons. She remembered this man’s face, he had been the Maester on Dragonstone when Daenerys was born. She owed this man her life. He had spoken to her in the long weeks of recovery of times he had spent in the Citadel under the tutelage of her Great Uncle Aemon Targaryen and the esteem he held for the elderly Maester. Her thoughts went to The Wall and the kindly old dragon freezing on it, serving the realm humbly that he could have ruled from the Iron Throne. He had been close to Rhaegar, they corresponded regularly. What would the Realm be like if Aemon had taken the Throne instead of her Grandfather Aegon the Fifth? She looked down at the boy in her arms and wondered why no Aemon had ever sat the Iron Throne. They had always been – if history is to be believed – the nobler, wiser and kinder siblings in their families. Aemon, the Dragon knight was younger than Aegon the fourth – the Unworthy – but their sister the queen had loved Aemon. Maester Aemon named for the Dragon Knight was humble and wise; wiser than his younger brother whom he called Egg – Aegon V the Unlikely. Would the next Aemon - it had been her son’s wish. - have been a better king than his brother Aegon? The world may never know. As she looked back up into the maester’s eyes, she chose to trust this man with Jon’s life.

“Sir Whent gather his meagre possessions and bring his Direwolf. Sir Hightower, Sir Dayne carry him to my apartments. They should be far more conducive to healing. He will not sleep in this dark hole another day.”

Daenerys had a momentary spell of confusion as she watched the two knights gently carry the boy out of the cell and towards the stairs. She gazed at Jon’s only actual possession pad behind them, needing no chain to lead it. The Direwolf, the great white beast with its blood red eyes required no control device as the knights carried the only control that existed over the beast. Daenerys thought what would have been the result of her father’s tortures of Jon if the beast had been with its master, she believed the blood on the floor would not have been Jon’s, but then they would have killed it taking Jon’s only true and loyal friend and decided it was strangely better the beast wasn’t there to protect him but would be there to comfort him in his recovery. He would recover, regardless of what the physicians whispered about it being a miracle, he must. What confused her was the Direwolf; Direwolves were not a symbol of House Baratheon. Direwolves belonged to House Stark of Winterfell, in fact it was told Lord Stark’s children each had a Direwolf as a constant companion, and rumour said they were terrors to behold to anyone who wronged the Stark children.

Viserys called the Starks the Usurper’s Dogs and spat on their names, and it was true Lord Eddard Stark was known to have ridden beside Robert Baratheon in his rebellion. However, it was also known that Lord Stark came to the Trident after Rhaegar’s death and he left the Trident to take Rhaegar’s body to Dragonstone to her mother. Then there was all that controversy about Lord Stark’s sister – Baratheon’s betrothed – who either ran away with Rhaegar or was abducted by her brother, depending who was telling the tale. Lady Stark died soon after Rhaegar anyway, so no one was certain. The King had returned her body to Lord Stark to bury and pardoned him at his queen’s insistence for honouring Rhaegar. The King had even reinstated Lord Stark’s Marriage to Lady Ashara Dayne – Arthur’s sister before sending him off to the North to rarely be seen again.

Was Jon, Lord Stark’s son instead? But then why was he here? Lord Stark was pardoned and had served as Warden to The North loyally since the rebellion. Surely her father would not anger a Lord of Westeros by holding his child hostage and torture the child, would that not incite another war? Lord Stark had other siblings though, an older brother whom her father had – apparently – brutally executed along with his father, Lord… what was his name Stark? Jon became more of an enigma the more she encountered him.

The king was livid and raged for days that the queen was harbouring, and healing Jon. Daenerys did learn something from his rage though: Jon Snow was his full name, making him a baseborn of the North. Still that was no help, why would a Lord care what happened to any of his bastard children? Most don’t even acknowledge them. Her father forbade any of the rest of the family visiting the Queen’s apartments while she ‘let that northern Dog in her rooms’. Her mother was not chastised and even said she was glad she would not need endure his company and if that was all it took to get rid of him, she would be harbouring the little Direwolf for the rest of her life. Viserys and Aegon didn’t really care, it peaked their curiosity for a few days as why this ‘dog’ was so important. Rhaenys was more concerned as her curiosity extended to how the Black Cell Boy became so injured and was disgusted when Daenerys confided what she knew. The most surprising reaction was from Rhaenys and Aegon’s mother – Rhaegar’s widow- Princess Elia Martell of Dorne. Elia had always been kind to Daenerys, as a sister; respectful to the King and Queen; and totally devoted to her and Rhaegar’s children, but Elia had been distant as well. Only as close and intimate with the Targaryens as she needed to be. She had never visited the Queen’s rooms in the years she had lived in the Red Keep to Daenerys’ or Rhaenys’ knowledge. The day she heard that Jon was in the Queen’s rooms she dropped her embroidery and rushed to the Queen. The princesses watched as Elia left the apartments in tears a few hours later and Rhaenys said her mother didn’t stop crying for two days, she could not be comforted and would not explain her sorrow.

Daenerys’ own concern for Jon lead her to do something she would not believe herself capable of, rebellion. She ignored his declaration and visited her mother. She did not sneak she walked boldly, when a guard in her house colours stopped her she demanded he remove his hands from her royal personage, as her father had declared only weeks ago she was to be unaccosted within the castle walls, unlimited in access. True that wasn’t exactly what he said, but it was close, so the guard dropped his hand and let the princess pass.

A maid let her in, and she went immediately to her mother’s bed chamber to ask where Jon was, but she thought she shouldn’t use his name as it would appear familiar. Her mother was not there but Jon was. On a little bed near the hearth with Ghost lying beside it. Very slowly she approached the boy, she thought to hold his hand and give him comfort. This would be the first time she would ever get to touch him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This saw him out but not away forever, soon enough Queen Rhaella will see him released.  
Also I understand it seems out of … sequence that Daenerys thinks of him as the boy rather than Jon but originally in blurb, I did not have them talk much.  
Next Chapter some soft time for the boy.


	9. Soft Pillows and Sweet Scents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little peace after the devastation of life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not originally here.  
Most of this will be short until we get to their meeting then it will expand. but it will also get slower to posted.

Queen Rhaella returned to her chambers to check on Jon and found a delightful sight. Her daughter Daenerys was sitting by the bed Rhaella had set up for Jon, holding his hand gently and telling him he was going to be fine. She understood this whole event had been terrifying for her young daughter, to see such cruelty visited upon another person. To know her father was the one who commanded this violation of another’s existence. Rhaella smiled at her daughter’s beautiful heart to care so deeply for a boy she did not know, because he was in pain.

As sweet as this was, Rhaella was enraged at her husband. What was Aerys thinking? She felt guilty for failing to shield Jon from Aerys, for failing to keep her word to Eddard Stark. How should she inform him? She should, but Lord Stark was barely held contained to think Aerys had Jon, he would go to war for his nephew, for the tortures Aerys visited on the boy.

Her brother confused her. If Aerys hated Jon so deeply, why not just send him away, or declare him a bastard to all the world, why keep him here? He seemed almost joyous after any interaction with the boy, whether it was a peaceful or aggressive audience, Aerys always appeared to be happier having seen the boy.

Rhaella rarely got to see her grandson, because Aerys would not allow it, the visits became harder as Jon grew. She would not let him go now Aerys had let him slip through his fingers. She knew he could not walk free, but he could have a room instead of a cell. She would stand up for Rhaegar’s son, because it would break her son’s heart to see his boy treated like this. Now, she could stare at Rhaegar’s face all day, hidden by Lyanna’s colouring.

Aerys had been livid after hearing Elia had visited her and seen Jon. Rhaella had no idea she would show up or why she would even care to see her son’s rival. She had gently stroked his face and wept, which Rhaella understood. Jon was hidden by his colouring, but he had Rhaegar’s features, make him Targaryen coloured and he would be Rhaegar’s twin. Rhaella wondered why Elia had been so upset though, was it seeing how similar Jon was to Rhaegar, was it for what this son endured so hers could be safe. Did Elia see the price Jon paid for Aegon to have his throne? Still everyone’s reactions were far more severe than Rhaella had thought.

She looked at her daughter, even Daenerys seemed more pained by this event than one would think and she had no idea this boy was her nephew. Rhaella smiled again, not for her daughter or her grandson, but for a memory she had of holding a dark-haired Direwolf boy’s hand once as he tried to recover from being set on his arse in a melee. Her old friend, her dearest friend, though she had never revealed that was how she saw him, Rickard Stark. The realm probably thought they had never even met. They had and he had helped her, in an affair of the heart. While he got his head rung like a bell, Rhaella had been spending a few precious moments with Sir Bonifer Tarry. She could have married Bonifer, but her father disliked something about him, and made her marry Aerys.

The worst part was when Bonifer went, so did Rickard and for some reason that had made her feel less safe. Perhaps because terrible things happened after she married. Aerys was always a dutiful son, and she was not a dutiful daughter. Her father was crueller than any knew, and Aerys followed their father’s commands, even if it hurt his sister. She blamed her father for her brother’s demise into insanity - a chivalrous Prince was forced to be a villain and it snapped his mind in half.

“Daenerys, darling. What are you doing here?” She watched Daenerys jump in surprise and act caught. “Your father said, I was to have no visitors.”

“I have permission to go about the Keep as I please.” Daenerys said the same to her mother as the guard.

“I believe your father’s order superseded that permission.” Aerys would be livid, he wanted no Dragon to get too close to the Direwolf. Sometimes Rhaella wondered which her brother was protecting the young Dragons or Jon. His wrath had gone into overdrive once he found out Elia had visited.

“He was so hurt, Mother.” Daenerys looked back at Jon and reached down to tuck a curl behind his ear. “Will he recover?”

“He will.” Rhaella went to stand beside her daughter. “He may however, be punished more if we disobey your father.” The queen watched her daughter’s indecision, Daenerys’ caring soul wanted to help the boy. Rhaella smiled, her daughter was to marry either her brother Viserys or nephew Aegon, Rhaella out of that choice preferred Aegon. It would be nice for her daughter to marry a nice boy, like Jon. Not Jon because Aerys really would kill him for that, but Rhaella had found Direwolves to be true men of heart, Daenerys deserved a softer life than Rhaella had been cursed too. She liked Aegon, but he had a touch of arrogance that Rhaella did not like. “Run along, before you are caught.”

Daenerys followed her mother’s instruction; she would hate Jon to be hurt more. She feared he would not fully recover. She also, was in need of processing the wonderful sensations she had experienced from simply touching Jon. His skin felt cool, but his hand was warm, deeply warm. Like his bones were on fire and his skin acted like an icy armour and his flesh kept the two forces apart. She wanted to go back and hold his hand again.

She wanted to run her fingers through his lovely hair. Before her mother had returned, she had been tempted to wrap a curl around one of her fingers, to run her fingers through his hair to watch the curls bounce back into place. His hair was so soft and silken, she could not imagine how, since he had lived in a cell. She had owned a miniature poodle once, and its soft fur was akin to Jon’s curls, so soft. The poodle had been black by her Father’s insistence, House Targaryen colours he said. She had cuddled that poodle until it died in her arms of old age. She wanted to cuddle Jon now.

Jon was not fully awake, he hurt, and they kept giving him this milk like drink that made the pain go but made him sleepy. He thought he was dreaming because he smelt honey and roses and heard the soft tones of the girl that wore it. He wanted to open his eyes to see the dream, but he could not manage it. He felt a soft hand take his and hold it, a very warm very soft and sweet-smelling hand. There was better light in this new room, so if he could have opened his eyes, he might have seen her.

When Jon could open his eyes, the queen sat beside him and she was sewing, she looked peaceful and beautiful. How did the king ever capture the heart of such a wonderful woman?

“What are you doing?”

“I am sewing my daughter’s Wedding Cloak.”

“What is it for?”

“When a couple weds the girl wears the cloak of her father’s House to the ceremony and after they wed, she wears the cloak of her husband’s House.” Always her voice was soothing, for some reason the queen had visited him over his life, she was a constant remembrance. She was not his first memory his first memory was terrifying. He shuddered even now. “Are you alright Jon?” He nodded and looked at her sewing to distract himself.

“So, you are sewing the cloak she wears into the ceremony.” The red, black and Three-Headed Dragon of House Targaryen.

“Or the one she wears out of it.”

“But it is your House’s cloak how could she wear it out?” Rhaella looked up at the boy and held his gaze so innocently asking how House Targaryen could commit marry incestuously.

“Sometimes our House marries within itself.”

“Hmm.” Jon thought that did not sound a good continued policy.

“I know. Believe me, I know.” She sighed but continued sewing.

“Thank you for the soft pillows, and the sweet smells.” He poked his pillow with a finger, Rhaella smiled at the actions of, she was certain, favourite grandchild.

Aerys read the message in his hand a third time, he scowled at the words it held.

> The Hatter has revealed the egg. It is cracked but will survive.

_ How dare they!_ They conspired against him, their king. Their code did not save them, he knew what they meant, he knew what they planned. His downfall. They would not have it.

“Is this all that was sent?”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Thank you Pycelle, your loyalty is appreciated.” With a wave of his hand he dismissed the Grand Maester. Aerys walked to the window to out over the city, this was dangerous and he would need nip it in the bud.

Basically, everyone followed the command to stay away from the Queen while the boy recovered and stay in her rooms. Elia was always wishing to be updated on his progress and his health. For a short while it was as if she was more interested in him than in her own son. The three Kingsguards still attended him in the Queen’s chambers, but no other kingsguard. Ghost had settled to accept the kind woman but not her maid, but the Queen enjoyed tending to the needs of her favourite little boy, even if he was no longer little.

The old maester was a miracle worker, Jon recovered well from what was said by Sir Hightower, Ser Whent and Sir Dayne. King Aerys demanded he be shackled by his foot as before. Daenerys could not visit her mother to see for herself so had lowered herself to eavesdropping on the knights as they spoke quietly of their charge. Truth was this lack of seeing Jon was getting hard to bear, always before she could just sneak down and watch him, but the closest she got was watching from a window when He was in her mother’s garden, usually sitting and reading, or using Ghost as a crutch at first. Every trip, every falter had he jumping forward to try and catch the boy at least a level below her. She may only ever see him like this forever more, if her mother had truly freed him of his cell, she would never be able to touch or speak to him again. Daenerys felt terrible because she wished Jon Snow would be returned to his cell so he could be hers again to talk with to gaze upon.

Rhaella got much joy at this intimate time with Jon, he never got over his curiosity and amazement for the soft things in life. Pillows bewildered him, soft things and soft sheets and furs. Sweet perfumed scents also had him smelling everything thrice. She did find it curious that many times he shook his head in disappointment at the scents he sought, as if looking for one and not finding it. When the Queen was present, he was always a bright and optimistic child, but she learnt from happening upon him without warning, he bore some of his father’s doom about him. Jon did not however have the privilege to dwell there as Rhaegar had, he was always picking himself up and regularly nodded to himself as if he was giving himself a prep talk in his head. Rhaella guessed that was Lyanna, she wished she had gotten to know the girl that lit Rhaegar’s darkness and birthed this beautiful boy.

“Your grace, what is this?” Jon held up a piece of toast smothered in honey, she had a sweet tooth which she had passed on to Daenerys, they regularly used to eat honeyed sandwiches in the gardens on mother-daughter picnics.

“That is honey, nectar of the Gods.” She replied.

Jon stared at it and placed a finger in the golden syrup, licking the finger slowly to savour the sweet taste. “Mmm. Nectar of the Gods, makes so much sense.” He whispered to himself, the Girl of Honey and Roses – now he had confirmed the honey part – was from the Gods. Of course, she was. He wondered if he asked the Queen if she would know the girl by her scent. He decided not to ask, he did not want to get the girl in trouble.

He slept peacefully that night as he dreamed of eating honey on toast with a girl smelling of honey and roses, but he still could not see her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Jon and Daenerys interact again but are kept apart by Aegon. He unfortunately still does not discover his girl's identity.


	10. A Harp for Belarion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short interval

One day a couple of months after that terrible day, the younger Targaryens – Aegon and Daenerys – were going to visit the great skulls of the Dragons of their family, when there sitting in Belarion’s mouth was a dark-haired boy playing a harp beside a dozing Sir Hightower, his great white Direwolf’s head in his lap. Aegon told Daenerys to stay behind him for her own protection. Jon stopped playing the beautiful song and turned his head to regard the ‘intruders’, because that is what they seemed to be in this scene.

“Yes, Dragons can be very dangerous when surprised. Belarion however is a good-tempered Dragon, age has mellowed him.” Jon said with a smile on his face and an affectionate pat of the great Dragon’s skull.

“Do you think this is funny?” Aegon demanded angrily. Daenerys thought it funny. “You jibe about the greatest Dragon of my family’s history.”

“You obviously do not know Belarion very well Prince Targaryen. Sorry I have no idea who you are. Belarion is a gentle soul now, he likes to sleep and eat mammoths, strangely.” Jon looked perplexed by the statement he had just made. “I mean isn’t it too cold for fire Dragons in The North where mammoths live?” He was talking to the skull not Aegon. “Why would that be your favourite meat? Wouldn’t horse or stag be better?”

“Are you mad boy?” Aegon asked, “You are talking to the skull of a Dragon who died centuries ago. And you are talking to it like it will reply.”

“Why do you think he would not answer? Why do you think his soul has left his bones? Ignore him Belarion he obviously doesn’t understand Dragons at all. You can just talk to me and pretend he isn’t here.” To emphasise his disregard Jon returned to playing the harp. “This is Sir Hightower’s and Ghost’s favourite song too, my Dragon friend, I hope it helps you sleep.”

“How dare you!” Aegon was furious.

Jon looked irritated. “Oh, do be quieter, you’ll wake Sir Hightower.” His voice was low but his tone was commanding.

“What?!” Aegon couldn’t believe this boy’s insolence. He could understand his grandfather’s annoyance with this one, he had no respect for his betters and definitely did not act appropriately for his station. He acted like Aegon’s equal.

As if to prove Jon’s point the old knight started to stir. “What did I tell you?” Jon rolled his eyes.

_ His beautiful brown eyes._ Daenerys thought.

“I am your Prince! You cannot talk to me in this fashion.”

“Firstly, I don’t care if you are the King of all Essos. Secondly, why can’t I?”

“Because I am your Prince!”

“Again, we are at point one: I don’t care.” Jon’s voice backed up his words.

Aegon surged forward in anger only to be met by the barred teeth of the Direwolf, whose speed of movement from his master’s lap was phenomenal. Ghost was not muzzled. Its chain was long enough Aegon could feel the heat of its breath on his face.

“Ghost.” Jon touched the wolf’s flank. “Don’t eat the Prince.”

“What is going on?” Sir Hightower was awake now. “Jon call back the Direwolf, if he harms the Prince your punishment will be severe.” It occurred to Daenerys that Sir Hightower’s concern was not with Aegon’s safety but with Jon’s. Aegon smirked triumphantly almost identically to the way Viserys did when he tortured her, the way she hated. He found no victory in Jon’s expression, Jon just smiled back at him, and Daenerys saw the defiance in his eyes that must irk her father so. She found the look intoxicating.

“Oh, but Sir Hightower if I don’t the king will be down one idiot heir. It may be worth it.” He said with a shrug, never once taking his eyes off Aegon’s.

“Jon!” Sir Hightower reprimanded. Aegon swallowed hard as he realised the shackled boy had all the power here and if Jon wished it even the kingsguard could not save him from Jon’s beast. His eyes dropped.

“However, the princess should not have to witness such violence. Come back here Ghost, let the silly boy be. I’ll sing you a song, one that will help Hightower and Belarion sleep and make you dream of snow and ice.” The creature immediate turned to comply and circled its master to lay its head once more in his lap. “That’s an obedient Direwolf.” Jon’s hands strummed the harp.

“Prince Aegon, you and her highness should leave.” Sir Hightower said looking at Jon Snow with concern. Aegon grabbed Daenerys’ arm and pulled her away, pushing her before him. She really wanted to stay and listen to the song.

“Grandfather will hear of this!”

As it turned out Aegon told his mother first and when he said he was going to tell King Aerys, he received a very unexpected and hard slap across his face. “You will not mention this to anyone Aegon Targaryen!”

“Mother he _commanded_ me! A prisoner commanded a Targaryen Prince.” Aegon said exasperated.

“No Aegon. Rhaegar was a Targaryen Prince. You have yet to prove yourself one. Targaryen princes are more than silver hair and blue or purple eyes and a red three-headed dragon on your armour.” Ellia was gentle in her reprimand of her son.

“I am sorry Mother.” Daenerys did not think he actually looked sorry but Elia believed him. “I may be spending too much time with my uncle.” Daenerys had to agree Aegon was showing Viserys’ arrogance and that horrible smirk in the skull room.

“Too much time with Viserys and the King.” Elia said softly.

“Maybe if I had known Father, I would be more like him.” There was real sadness and regret in Aegon’s voice and Daenerys understood his feelings. She also wished the brother she’d grown-up with was not Viserys. Everyone extolled Rhaegar’s virtues but he was only a mythic figure to Aegon and herself, having never known him. If Rhaegar had lived would Viserys be such a cruel man? If Rhaegar was king would the Stark bastard be in a Black Cell – to which he had apparently been returned?

“What would life be like if Jaime Lannister had succeed killing Father, but Lord Baratheon failed to kill Rhaegar?” Daenerys gave voice to her ponderings. Her nephew and niece looked at her taken aback by her words.

“Very different.” Elia whispered as she gazed at her children.

“Would Jon Snow still be living in a dungeon?” This she really wished would be changed.

“No.” Elia said as she honed her gaze in on her son. “He also would not be Jon Snow, he would have the name his mother and father gave him. Though I think he would still be the fine boy he is now. Even for all Aerys tortures. That boy would shine in the sunlight, I did not realise how much like his father he was until I saw him. He was probably a little copy of him, curls and all.” She smiled warmly. “I wonder if they will disappear as his hair grows as … his did?”

“Jon Snow isn’t his name?” Rhaenys spoke for the first time. “What name did his parents give him?” Elia’s face showed a realisation that she had been lost in her revelry and had said too much putting herself in a difficult position, she shook her head. “Mother what do you know of this boy?” Rhaenys was a couple of years older than Aegon and Daenerys and was treated more like an adult than them and now she was enacting her senior position. What the older members of the family would not say to ‘the children’ no longer applied to Rhaenys.

“I cannot say dear one. It is not my place, but what I will say is this: That boy should never have been secreted away. He should have been raised with his family, people that loved him, he suffered more loss before he was a month old than any other person in this castle. He deserved a better life, he deserved to be loved.”

“Who is he?” Rhaenys pressed.

“He is his father’s most treasured son. He is his mother’s greatest joy. He is the perfect symbol of their love and believe me it was the greatest of loves. I witnessed it.” Elia refused to speak on the subject any longer and nothing moved her to words. Though the ones she had spoken had ignited a fire of curiosity in the three Targaryens.

A couple of weeks passed with no new discoveries about Jon Snow, sometimes the others would sneak away to investigate him, mainly by watching him and trying to eavesdrop on his conversations with the three kingsguards that constantly watched him but all they discovered was he had no idea of himself and was nowhere as curious about himself as they were; and he had an extraordinary light to his soul as he remained determined to not sink despair. Though he was prone to solemnity, he was a serious soul. Though Daenerys already knew most of this from her solo excursions to see him earlier. Sir Dayne seemed to be his favourite ‘keeper’ as he called them. No more did they find him in the cell, but always playing a harp for Belarion.

As time passed Daenerys had less opportunity to ‘speak’ to Jon and she found her life had lost some of its shine without him. She knew not why, for she was not old enough to imagine it could have been love. She kept her knowledge of him secret so none other could enlighten her to her malaise. She could always listen to him as he played for the Dragon skull, but with his removal from the cell her opportunity to steal moments of closeness also passed. She missed being close and to hear him, talking to her.

Jon had not seen the Girl of Honey and Roses since his injuries, she must have left the Keep or now he was not easily discoverable, she could not find him, he still caught her scent on the air and smiled to smell it, but she never came to speak to him again. He worried the scent was only a ghost from his memory. He may no longer live in a cell, he had a small plain and barren room now, For the king would only allow the queen that much, and the room usually changed location at irregular intervals. He always wore a chain, but as much as he liked this marginally better life, he would give it up for another conversation with the mystery girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know they are brief but they will expand soon. At least they can be quick.
> 
> Next Chapter: Aerys' last cruelty to Jon and the Queen demands freedom for the insult.


	11. The Black Cell Closes Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aerys enacts his last cruelty on Jon and Rhaella demands his freedom as reparation for the insults.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know people want this longer. They will be but when Jon and Dany can truly be with each other, I do not have time with epics of DBT and NNF to do epics over characters, that will not add to Jonerys yet.

Then came a great commotion in the throne room one day as Sir Dayne was heard screaming in anger. The entire Targaryen family and all the kingsguard rushed to the sound of his raised voice. Was the king in danger? The visage that met them was worse than they anticipated. Five guardsmen held the white cloak as he strained to escape them trying to get to Jon Snow, standing in the centre of the room, with a Targaryen guardsmen on each side of him, and another holding his right arm out from his body. A cloaked pyromancer held a canister above his outstretched hand. The king cackled madly.

“Let us see how strong you are.” Aerys spoke down to the lad.

“You are insane! You cannot do this!” Dayne was slowly dragging the five men closer to the prone Jon. The king leaned in towards the shackled and restrained Jon.

“Do you know what today is?” He paused a moment. “It is your namesday.” He cackled again. “I have a very special gift for you. I am going to save your head from being taken as a traitor’s by taking your sword hand, so you can never raise a sword against me.”

Jon looked angry. “Why would I ever … How would I? I live in a hole, I have no family or allies. I am isolated! How would I even get a sword?!"

Aerys started rambling to himself. “Oh, you could raise an army. You would take my throne, take **my** crown. A sword? Where would you get a sword? From the thousands that would take my crown and set it on your head. Oh, they would follow. Yes, they would march from all the kingdoms. March on my keep, to overthrow me. They would march by the thousands, yes they would throw me down and raise you up…” Jon’s face was a ‘canvas’ of disbelief, his eyes wide and his left eyebrow raised, he was incredulous. But the Mad King continued his ranting, not loud but quiet in an almost whisper. “They wait even now to betray me, My lords of my kingdoms. Lannister was my closest friend, my most trusted and he would have sacrificed me at Duskendale to crown Rhaegar. Rhaegar, ‘A better king’, oh he may have been, he may have been, but they killed him, my Lords. You killed him.” He stared at Jon with piercing gaze, and then looked away back to his madness. “It was because of you, all for you, if not for you my son would be alive. But no. No, you had to be. You had to be, so he could not. Even now one of my kingsguard fights to save you so you can kill me. It is not even just him, they would all kill me to crown you. I know what they think behind their helms and under their white cloaks, I know. If I take your hand you will never raise an army against me; you won’t steal my crown. I will take the hand and take your power.” Aerys at this point seemed to disappear and was replaced by a deeper more ominoius voice. “I am a Dragon, I will watch the world burn and you, you will not save it. Hmm. Yes. I will burn it all and you will be forced to watch it all turn to ash. I will destroy it all before you can re-take it. That is what I will do.” Aerys voice returned for his words to trail off into mutterings. All within the throne room were struck in silent shock at the king’s descent into complete insanity.

In a strong and steady voice, the dark-haired boy spoke. “You are wrong Dragon. I will not raise an army. I do not want your ugly throne or your equally ugly crown. I will go north, to The Wall, say the words and never have influence in your Realm. Just stop this madness.”

Aerys' head snapped up to stare at the boy. “You may not want it boy, but they will take it from me for you. Do you think The Wall would stop them? No, even on The Wall you are a danger to me, they will rally to you against **me**. They would find a way even from that wall. If they even let you arrive there. No, I will not stock The Wall with Usurpers, frozen in time to come back and steal what is **mine**. Pour the Wildfire!” The pyromancer upended the jar over Jon’s hand, he grimaced as the green liquid oozed through his fingers and over his wrist. He did not cry out or make any sound except the hiss of a breath taken between clenched teeth. Sir Dayne surged forward dragging the five guards with him; Sir Hightower took an unconscious step forward and Sir Whent’s hand went to his sword.

Daenerys held her breath, she was surprised to hear her brother chuckle, she turned to see a broad smile of delight on his face. That was the moment she stopped loving her brother at all. Then a shiver went down everyone’s spines as a howl raised on the air, it echoed from every corner of the Keep, an eerie and terrifying sound. Daenerys thought, Ghost knows Jon is in danger if only he could get free.

“Aegon.” The king called her nephew forward, he reluctantly left his mother’s side and approached his grandfather. “As you are known to be Rhaegar’s first born son and heir,” Aerys looked at Elia for a long moment before continuing “You should inherit the Iron Throne. You will be the one to save it. Take the torch and light the Wildfire.”

Aegon looked sickened for a moment but recovered his composure. He looked to his mother, and then back to his grandfather. “This is your victory grandfather, for your throne, your crown. It would be wrong for me to do this, the honour…” Aegon almost choked on the word, “the honour should be yours.” With that Aegon put a few steps distance between himself and the torch.

“I will do it father!” Viserys called with vigour.

“No, my son, your nephew is right I shall do it.” He took the torch and took a step towards Jon, who was barely keeping his emotions in check. As he took another step forward, he stopped. “Wait! Not that hand! The other hand, it must be the left hand.”

“That is not even my … dominant hand.” Jon shook his head in bewilderment.

“Pour it again and I will light it.” Aerys commanded the pyromancer. He got another canister and poured it over Jon’s left hand this time.

“No, you **will not**!” Queen Rhaella swept into the room. “I am done with this Aerys! Today is the end. Today your gift to Jon is to take him out of that cell and chains forever! Send him away across the Narrow Sea if that is what will quell your fears, but you will not burn him, else you will burn us all. I will not have you bring a curse down on our House!” She stared at her husband with a ferocity he had never seen.

The fire of her wrath snapped him back into some semblance of sanity. He looked at the prisoner and then the torch in his hand and then at his wife and he relented. “I will not burn him if that is your wish sweet sister-queen. I will send him across the Narrow Sea, where he will make what he can of himself.” The King smiled – a true smile – but Daenerys still worried what it meant for Jon. “Take the young man to a ship now! He must not be seen, you’ll need a large crate, he can be released once the ship is out to sea. As he will no longer be my prisoner, he will no longer need guards. I will even forgive Sir Dayne for his outburst earlier.” The guards led Jon out of the throne room, he looked unsure of this new event, this possibility of freedom.

Daenerys wondered about Ghost suddenly. If they were taking Jon now, then he would be going without the Direwolf. She was saddened to think of them separated, she was saddened to think she would never see Jon again or hear him play the harp. Her heart rejoiced however to think of him free to finally see what the sky looked like.

“Wash those hands.” The Queen commanded as the guards disappeared through the door with Jon.

“Is he aboard?” Aerys asked staring out to sea.

“Aboard, sailing to Essos.”

"Good. Make sure he gets there.” Aerys turned. “If you will excuse me, I have in-laws to welcome. Oh, dear how sad House Martell missed all the fun.” Aerys turned to gaze at the ship once more. Hoping it had sailed quick enough. “Oh, send someone to close that Cell and keep it safe for his return.”

“You think to re-imprison him if he ever returns?”

“No, but none are worthy to sleep where he slept. Rhaella will need a place to visit his spectre, all who loved him will. Also, I cannot have a Direwolf running around loose.” Aerys stared where is last grandson had gone, hoping the boy was strong enough. _Good luck, Aegon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Quick Update of how life goes on after Jon's departure, may go into start of preparation for the reunion, but not sure.  
Oh, Still deciding on Jon's real name, so as with originally written stuff, he is Aegon for now. Yes, it can change and reasons will be apparent why much later.  
As to all asking for when the reveal? Most adults already know, it is only the younger Targs that don't. SPOILER: Even Robb knows. This is not so important as reveals go. There are bigger secrets.


	12. Winter Prevails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another player contemplates the changes that have occurred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short.  
I don't like the title but couldn't come up with anything good.

The king stared down the length of his throne room from his seat atop his great throne. The white wood of the throne contrast with the black volcanic glass of the wall, crawling up it like a crack splitting the world. The king as always was enraged, he had been enraged for decades.

Two women attended him, perhaps the only ones who could weather his wrath. The exceptionally tall, black-haired woman with soft silk robes that hid her hard demeanour and cold attitude, skin tinged for desert climes. The fiery redhead with eyes like wildfire and a hooded look, sure to carry a blade for your heart under her soft cotton wraps, with skin of a light green hue.

“Where is Duncan?” The king asked with an inferno behind his tone.

“On a ship headed for Essos.” The desert featured woman spoke with little emotion. The king’s blue eyes snapped up to stare at the woman. Always before the answer had been that ‘we are unaware of the prince’s whereabouts’.

“Essos?” The king asked, not sure if he should feel hope.

“The Mad One has released or revealed him. As he is mad, we are unsure which he thinks he has done.” She shrugged, who truly knew with Aerys Targaryen.

“I have already sent the Lion to him.” The fire-haired woman spoke. “I will follow soon.”

“What are you waiting for?” The king was confounded, they had waited decades for a chance to regain what was stolen. They had waited fifteen years for Aerys to disclose what he had done with the child, where he had hidden him.

“Information.” Her green eyes burned.

“What information?”

“Whether this boy Aerys has hidden could truly be who we hope he is.”

“You do not think he is Duncan?” He had to be, this was why Aerion had endured so long in his wrath.

“They call him Jon.” The Chancellor said.

“I don’t care if they call him bloody Bob! Get him here!” The redhead bowed and left the room. The Chancellor sighed; these people really needed to take a longer view of things.

The king rose and walked the length of his throne room, and out onto the terrace, he looked into the great chasm below. This boy had to be who he hoped. Aerion would burn the Seven kingdoms to ash for what Jaeherys and Aerys Targaryen had taken from him. “Be ready Hellion, your next king will be coming home finally.” He felt the heat wave rise. If anyone tried to stop them, Hellion would block out the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, they are all related.
> 
> Next Chapter: Overview of King's Landing and at least the start of how our love birds meet again.  
Trying to get to reunion of our lovers and with a reunion will be the revelation of who his Girl of Honey and Roses really was. May not be next chapter on that but I will see how I go.


	13. Life After Jon Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events in King's Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say it was far from Canon right?  
Be warned, some people will hate some of this. but it is all political.  
And it is overview to get somethings prepared for forward events.  
I know it is short and people want long, but I will lengthen them once our lovebirds are together.

That was that, Jon was gone. Daenerys found life was less light, she found very little joy in it at all. It became noticeable to all that there was something hurting within the princess, many worried for her.

“Your highness.” Sir Arthur bowed his head as they passed and suddenly found himself followed by the girl. He looked at her curiously. “May I help you?”

“May I help you, Sir Dayne?” She asked him.

“How do you believe you can?”

“Sir Dayne I have noticed you walk the boy’s Direwolf.” She took a breath. “I wish to help the poor creature.”

“They are dangerous creatures.” Arthur inhaled through his nose, and the princess wondered if he was calming his mind as he then smiled widely.

“My father was very cruel to that boy; this is my way of making it up to the Gods.” Of course, it wasn’t it was her way of clinging to something of Jon Snow, she found everyday harder to bear as her heart ached for his absence.

So, she contented herself with helping Sir Dayne to care for Ghost, she would accompany them on walks around the Dragon skulls. Sir Dayne was not taking Jon’s absence any better than Daenerys or Ghost, the knight had loved his charge, he had become like a son to him – as much as a prisoner could – and now he was gone. Ghost refused to eat to begin with and even now he was less than he had been with his master, it was like part of the beast had been torn away.

It had been six months and the realm carried on. King Aerys seemed more stable and had even started arranging marriages for the young Targaryens. Viserys was to marry Elia’s niece Ardiane, the first-born daughter of Prince Doran of Dorne, he was of mixed feelings on it. On one hand she was a beautiful girl, on the other he always thought Daenerys as his sister would be his wife – as with their parents and grandparents – Daenerys was relieved it was not to be.

Rhaenys was currently stuck marrying Lord Tyrion Lannister the Dwarf – Elia was very unhappy with the match but Aerys would not be moved and would just ask why she had a problem with her daughter marrying into such a prominent family, it always silenced her and made Aerys extremely happy.. Rhaenys said she would have preferred someone taller, but politics said Casterly Rock had to be brought into line. Once she met him, she found herself liking his wit and intelligence, and could easily ignore his ‘outside ugliness’ and physical ‘shortcomings’. Even despite the age difference.

The only real issue Daenerys had was her marriage. She supposed she had hoped for a more exciting marriage, she did not delve into how she wished for a dark-haired husband. Her father had decided to marry her to Aegon, he had announced it to a full court.

“My daughter, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, will marry Aegon Targaryen, to be the Sixth of his Name. Crown Prince Rhaegar’s son and heir.” Daenerys liked Aegon but he was sometimes so easily lead. Aegon was a follower and not really a leader, he could play a good leader, but he wasn’t naturally one. She did like him, was very fond of him but she could never see herself having any real passion for him. She was also worried for his nature of mirroring her father and brother when not held in check, even to their rage at rare times. In a month she would be fifteen and then the arrangements would start in earnest. Her wedding was set for her sixteenth nameday, she dreaded the day.

“For my beloved sister.” Aerys handed a note sealed in a strange wax to Varys. “Ensure she gets it.”

“Where your grace shall I say I got it?”

“From a damned raven! No, from a ship that has just docked from Essos.” Aerys said as he released the message into Varys’ hand. “Ensure she reads it with haste.”

“If you do not mind your grace, why are we doing it this way? Surely it would be easier to just tell your queen these messages.” Varys did not always understand the king. He worried for him, but the man had stopped burning people and if the extent of his madness was to play silly games with his queen and family, who was Varys to stop him.

“I do mind! Do not question your king! Give the queen the message!” Aerys was not one to be questioned. The damned eunuch was his vassal not the other way around. Aerys was tired of all these traitors, he was waiting for the day, this was Aegon’s problem to fix not his. Aegon could deal with all these annoying people.

A couple of weeks before her nameday Daenerys’ mother packed Daenerys up and took her on a sojourn, so she could see the world before becoming Aegon’s bride and eventual queen, to experience the world before settling into producing heirs. Aerys had heartily agreed, Aegon also seemed relieved, maybe he was almost as averse to the marriage.

In truth Aegon was ambivalent, Daenerys was beautiful who wouldn’t want her as their wife? He however knew she would never be an adoring wife to him, and he thought he might like that, but was prepared to just get that from a mistress – he already had a lady or two who adored him just fine. He had been jealous of the boy in the cell, but ultimately Daenerys would be his wife and even if she wasn’t happy, well he had others happy to do her part. She was only required to be his wife, she didn’t have to like it.

Elia was a curiosity; she didn’t seem happy with either of her children’s matches. She was against marrying House Lannister and Aerys would just ask her why, knowing she couldn’t answer, lest she reveal herself. She hated he found such joy in her unease. Worse it was starting to get Cersei looking at her, if Cersei found out Elia’s secrets, she was finished, and her children would not be safe. Some days she hated Oberyn and his brilliant ideas, they were all coming back to haunt her.

Elia had little she could do. She did have one thing though. She sent a message to Essos and a man loyal to Rhaegar: Jon Connington. It was time he brought Aegon home, so her real son could take his place now this Blackfyre had done his job and saved her son from being killed. She was saddened though because she did love her false Aegon, she had raised him as if her own since Oberyn had taken her real son away to keep him safe from House Lannister and everyone who hated House Targaryen. She hoped Oberyn would not take him away, she hoped she could have them both.

Elia also hoped her real Aegon would look like Rhaegar as Jon did. People had started to note how Crown Prince Aegon did not look like any of other the Targaryens, other than in colouring, by some miracle Rhaenys even looked more Targaryen than him in her features. Truth was she was lucky Rhaenys had taken after her in colouring. Though sometimes in the right light her eyes shone a deep green. Elia missed green eyes.

Elia asked a thousand questions of Queen Rhaella about her itinerary, so she could have Jon Connington, find a way to introduce and align Daenerys and the boy he called Young Griff, her Aegon. If Daenerys fell and married ‘Young Griff’ in Essos, then Oberyn would be pleased, as would Doran. Maybe they would finally let her be at peace, when their ambitions were sated.

Aerys was concerned for his wife and daughter’s safety and insisted they take a Kingsguard each.

“Sir Arthur Dayne you shall protect my daughter and Sir Barristan Selmy will protect my queen.” Aerys looked happy then he looked at his good-daughter. “Elia Martell, you should be protected as the Mother of the Crowned Prince.” That was left of base and everyone seemed confused by his decision. “As House Dayne is sworn to House Martell, Sir Gerold Dayne, the knight known as Darkstar, shall protect you.” He smiled at her in a fashion she did not like and did not understand. Elia knew this was a prick at her but could not understand why.

“I would be honoured.” Sir Gerold said taking a step forward. He looked hard at the king and smiled. “I will protect Princess Elia as if she were my own mother, not even you will be allowed to harm her.” His smile was bright and friendly his eyes were hard as gemstones.

Aerys looked at the young man, he looked older than he was in truth. As he saw the hardness to his eye, Aerys worried he had mis-stepped, maybe he should not have done that. “Good. I would expect nothing else from you Lord Dayne.”

“So, you shouldn’t King Aerys.” As he smiled, Aerys thought, these boys are too rebellious, how did they get so? Damn his lords for murdering Rhaegar, all this would be simpler and more peaceful if Rhaegar was here to keep everything.

Still, Aerys maybe had done enough so that strong Dragons were imminent, and he could be finished. Perhaps soon peace would come to the tempest his madness thrust on the realm, he just had to be patient a little longer and the next generation could fix all his mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Dany discovers what happened to Jon, even if she doesn't see him yet.  
it will be short too. Because I need to set it up and then have it explode in size (comparably) for the Jon and Dany seeng each other and the next step in their lives. Warning not sure Dany will get back to Westeros before her sixteenth birthday.  
No, Elia is not evil, she is stuck. Cersei is not evil either, it is all political.  
This is a Jonerys story so I need to get to that place and that needs to happen in next few chapters. At least have them in the same city.  
Spoiler: as this is a Jonerys story, worry not about the betrothals, with coming events these will change, Haven't decided how but Obviously Dany doesn't marry Aegon, and Rhaenys will not marry Tyrion for other reasons. In case people were worried.


	14. His Fate Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's true fate is revealed to Daenerys.  
A brief meeting where she still hides herself, feeling the time and circumstance bad.  
Reunion is closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer.  
Only one more Chapter until Jon sees Princess Daenerys.

Daenerys was excited to see Essos, its exotic cities and strange people. A small part of her dreamed she would unexpectedly run into a young man with dark curls, brown eyes and handsome features. A big part of that small part dreamed he would look upon her for the first time without her disguises and fall desperately in love with her whisking her off to … anywhere, to never return to Westeros and Aegon’s arm.

Once they got there though she was disappointed as her mother seemed to be on a mission, the trip was some ruse to fulfil her agenda. After a quick stop in Pentos, they quickly headed for Slaver’s Bay and the rainbowed city of Meereen.

Once in Meereen, Daenerys and her mother went almost immediately to the Fighting Pits for which the city was famous. As they awaited with their two kingsguards – Sir Arthur Dayne and Sir Barristan Selmy – for the first challengers to enter, Daenerys’ curiosity got the better of her and she had to ask her mother.

“Mother what are we doing here surrounded by slaves and their masters, about to watch blood sport? This would not be my guess for how you would spend your afternoon and honestly I am not comfortable being here watching slaves kill each other.”

Rhaella turned to consider her daughter. “Daenerys, you are fifteen and soon in a year sixteen, married and in all ways considered a woman grown.” She stopped, considering again. “So, I will tell you why we are here in this awful place. People are deceptive and your father lied to us.”

“About what mother? How does Father lying, have us in this arena watching blood sport?”

“About the boy, Jon.” Rhaella had Daenerys’ full attention.

_ Jon_. Her dream of meeting him could be coming true.

“He did send Jon across the Narrow Sea as promised, but the ‘what he can make of himself’ is far different to what we thought. He was released from the crate once they were at sail, and he is no longer a prisoner. The difference is your father has sold Jon into slavery, into the fighting pits here in Meereen. That Daenerys is why we are watching blood sport, hoping to catch a glimpse of him alive.” Her mother said with sorrow, at the thought of what Jon had endured now.

Daenerys was stunned to think all this time she had imagined fanciful possibilities of what Jon was doing with his freedom, he’d been fighting for his life. Her heart burned with anger, scorching away any love or respect she had held for her father.

_How could he?_

“I do not know if we will even glimpse him today, but my informants say he survives.”

As it was they watched many men kill each other to the joy of the crowds, and sights that would haunt their sleep that night but none of them was Jon. Daenerys was glad she didn’t have to watch him fight but also saddened that she didn’t see him. He was in this city and she didn’t know how to find him. When he was her father’s prisoner, she could always try to catch a vision of him when his ‘keepers’ took him for ‘walks’ or sneak down to his cell. Here, in this slave city he could be anywhere, she may never find him or see him before he died in the pit. Her dreams were haunted by that day after her father had punished Jon for fifteen years since the Trident, the body covered in blood lying in her mother’s arms, and dark eyes closing forever.

Her ill-ease was not helped by the city and its inhabitants. The slavery was sickening, the barbaric practice had been outlawed long ago in Westeros. The Essoi spoke of their culture surpassing rustic – backward – Westeros, yet still they had slaves and Westeros had outgrown the use of them. She watched from her cushioned palanquin, the slaves as they toiled, she was revolted to think she was carried by slaves, so often stopped and allowed them rest, she guessed they must wonder what she was doing.

It took her mother’s informants two days to identify Jon’s ‘master’. Luckily every Masters’ family found the idea of hosting Westerosi royalty irresistible. So once the master was known suddenly the family became the centre of the Queen’s attention and time, they lapped up the prestige of her favour by the bucket fulls. They invited the Targaryen ladies to their private box at the pits. Daenerys for her part befriended the First Daughter, a girl close to her own age. After a day or so the queen started softly interrogating the head of the household. She started with broad questions about his slaves in general, then about his fighters in the pits, until the conversation turned to a specific slave gladiator.

“I hear Great Master that you have the honour of owning the finest young gladiator the pits have produced of late.” She asked as if it was a small thing to speak on.

“The finest swordsman in my lifetime and my Father’s too.” The Great Master was in his fourth decade of life, he sounded awed. Jon was only approaching sixteen, that was unlikely.

“That is what Grandfather says.” First Daughter whispered to Daenerys.

The Queen smiled through the interruption. “I hear he is a young fighter from my own lands. However, did a young Westerosi fighter come to be a slave here in your fine House?” Her mother’s voice was silk as were her words.

“Ah, my lady it is a fine tale. I am blessed to have the luck of owning the man. He is young maybe almost sixteen, but for his youth he is the best fighter I have. They say he was trained by your Westerosi knights.” The Great Master grinned with glee.

The knights looked at each other. Barristan had seen the boy’s black head the day Arthur had raged and the lad was sent away. He wondered if Arthur had trained the strange boy, he seemed to have an affection for the lad.

“Maybe by the Sword of the Morning himself, from what I hear tell of his skill.” The Queen laughed, Sir Dayne flicked his right hand over his left shoulder as if he was patting himself on the back, and Barristan grinned at Arthur’s uncustomary show of pride.

“I would not doubt it my Lady, he is very good. And quick, he could catch a striking cobra with his bare hands. I have seen him, fight on one of those bars your knights use in their battles in your arenas without falling.”

“I’m sorry what bars?” What was the slaver talking about?

“The ones they ride their horses down and try to knock each other off with poles.”

“Tourney bars?!” The Queen asked incredulously. “Surely you are mistaken, those bars are only 20 centimetres wide.”

“Yes, that is them, sometimes we have them set up for our patrons to see foreign sport, needless to say in one scenario he showed this talent, it was incredible. He can swing his sword and spin in swordplay and never do his feet falter. I am truly blessed to own him.” The kingsguards exchanged glances of disbelief.

“I didn’t teach him that.” Sir Dayne whispered.

“You can’t even do that Arthur.” Sir Barristan smiled. It was all exaggeration the knights were sure. A experienced fighter should trump the boy easily.

“He has fought in over a hundred battles and never lost. He has hardly even been harmed, a cut here and there but his opponents always are dead. Well dead if that is what the crowd wishes. The man has no bloodlust in him, he fights for the glory of my house but does not kill without being told to. My only sadness with him is he is defiant, and hard to influence. He will refuse to do something, no amount of whipping will change his mind. I fear I broke instead of him and do not insist he do anything he is averse to.” The Master pouted in his own failure.

“The slave master broken by a slave.” Rhaella’s eyebrow arched.

“Do not think me weak. The man earns me great mounds of gold. The people love him, both slaves and freemen. I can afford to let him have his principles, he repays me every time he steps onto the sands. People flock to the pits on the simple rumour that he may fight that day. On the days he is known to be fighting the arena is full and people must be turned away for safety.”

“As if that weren’t enough to say my father is blessed.” The First Daughter spoke up excited grabbing Daenerys’ hand in exuberance. “He is very handsome as well. Women from all the Great Houses have offered us great amounts of gold.”

“For what?” Asked Daenerys.

“For him.” The girl looked at Daenerys as if surprised the silver girl did not understand. When Daenerys did not show understanding she smiled. “To be with him.” Her smile broadened as Daenerys’ eyes widened in understanding. “Father is letting them bid against each other. The first lady to have the honour will pay a great price, we could buy your castle with the amount the bidding is currently at.”

“I am truly blessed.” The Master sighed happily.

“Women are bidding to …” Daenerys couldn’t say it.

“Be fucked by him.” The girl smiled broadly. Daenerys gasped. “I could take you down to see him if you like.”

“He is in this pyramid?” Jon was that close? Daenerys wanted to fly to where he was.

“Of course, he is worth too much to be kept anywhere else. What if he was damaged by a lesser slave or stolen by someone. We must keep him safe and close. If we are lucky, he will be playing an instrument, we have acquired many to keep him happy and it increases his value and the bidding if they see his other talents. A rarer treat would be if he sang.” Daenerys knew exactly what a treat it would be to hear Jon play or sing. She had to stop herself from jumping up and running to the door.

“I suppose we could go if my mother approves.” Daenerys made herself sound unsure, even slightly bored.

“Oh, please my lady, let me show your daughter our House’s great treasure.” The queen waved her hand in a gesture of ‘whatever’. “Princess, you will never forget this night. You may even make your mother place a bid for you.”

“I doubt it.” Again, she sounded bored, while her mind raced with thoughts of seeing Jon. She grabbed a hooded cloak as she was dragged out of the room. Sir Barristan followed the girls, he kept up well without looking like he was rushing, because the girls were running ahead. Daenerys made it appear as if First Daughter was dragging her, but she could hardly wait to see him.

The slave quarters they kept Jon in were far better than his black cell. They were well lit and clean still sparse on furnishing and a cage but a nice one. They were blessed by the light music of a harp coming from his cell.

“Shall we go in? Don’t worry it is safe, he will not hurt us. He is actually quite a nice young man.” Daenerys shook her head. “Okay we can observe him without him seeing us if that makes you feel safer.” It wasn’t about safety.

The First Daughter lead Daenerys around a pillar and into an observation booth, she pointed to the cell where the music was floating out of. Jon could not be seen from the booth, and the princess was disappointed but hid it well.

“I don’t see anything First Daughter.”

“Just wait. He has stopped playing, he may come out.”

There was movement in the cell and a young Westerosi man came into view, dark wavy hair and a toned body clad in gladiatorial garb, his face was very handsome, but he was not Jon. Daenerys almost cried in anguish, it was the wrong man.

“Oh, get out of the way you ugly pig.” First Daughter hissed. “Oh, Daenerys you are about to experience something visually spectacular.”

“Do you have a contest tomorrow Dragonsword?” The man that was supposed to be Jon asked, moving to the left side of the cell revealing his cellmate. Daenerys’ heart almost leapt out of her chest as his black curled head raised to reveal his handsome face, more handsome than she remembered – she understood First Daughter’s uncomplimentary comparison somewhat. Although quite handsome the other man paled in comparison in some inexplicable way to Jon’s. Jon’s only response was a shrug.

“Did I not tell you of his glory?” First Daughter whispered with a smile.

“Why did the other one call him Dragonsword?”

“He has a … brand on his right shoulder.” Daenerys tried to remember if she had seen such a brand, was it new? Was it her father’s doing? She had never seen Jon unclothed in anyway so he could have had it all the time. She would ask her mother. In truth the gladiatorial garb he wore was as unclothed as she had ever seen him. Though his garb did explain the adoration the ladies of Meereen had for him, the glimpse of well-muscled thighs under his leather skirts and the sleeveless tunic showed strong arms. Daenerys was sure they had improved in appearance with all the combat he engaged in, as she unconsciously checked his arms for any injury from the wildfire incident.

“So, Dragon Princess, are you not glad I brought you down to see? Aren’t you wondering what it would be like to be held by those strong arms? Do not lie to me, you are starting to desire your mother to place a bid for you.”

Daenerys had been wondering about Jon’s embrace for far longer than tonight, so First Daughter had achieved nothing. She hoped she hid her reaction to the boy well enough that neither First Daughter or Sir Barristan could discern them. She gazed at the boy, who was now a man far too young. She was sure his physique had changed considerably, but then for six months he had been fighting to survive. Even Viserys eight years her senior did not seem as masculine as The Black Cell Boy, Jon Snow. It was hard to imagine that Jon was only half a year older than her as he had the body more akin to the Kingsguard knights than any other male she knew. But unlike every other male she knew, she was transfixed by Jon and it was not just his appearance because she already knew his soul was just as handsome as his features.

Daenerys would admit to herself she did desire her mother to place a bid on Jon but to free him, not bed him. Daenerys did not believe anyone’s love could be bought then she supposed none of the bidders First Daughter spoke of were interested in love, after all to them Jon was just a slave, not a person of concern and consideration like he was to her. If she was being truly truthful with herself, she did wish after her mother freed him, he would love her, and she could experience being held in his arms. They did look very strong and his torso looked very firm and… Daenerys stopped thinking about it then or her audience would be able to guess what she was thinking.

“I would too, but as we own him, and it is more profitable to sell his embrace to another, I cannot.” First Daughter said sadly. “He is really a wonderful young man. Desirable in so many ways.” She leaned in to whisper so the knight could not hear.

“Actually, I was wondering how good of a fighter he really was. Your father’s claims seem… exaggerated.” Daenerys did not need to think of how desirable she found Jon right now, or anywhere in company.

“They are not! You will see tomorrow. I will have father have him fight tomorrow to have you see how magnificent he is.” Her companion pouted. She pulled Daenerys after her back around to the cells. Daenerys was glad she had grabbed and donned the hooded cloak, she couldn’t surprise Jon by just appearing and what if First Daughter said something about the bidding business and he thought she was involved? That she wished to be… by him? She did not want him to bed her, well she was not wishing anyone to bed her – not yet… maybe. First Daughter dragged her to the front of Jon’s cell, Sir Barristan stayed out of sight because there was no way to hide a white cloak.

“Gladiator!” Jon looked up, a disinterested expression on his features. “Tomorrow’s competition will see you fight for the amusement of our Houses honoured foreign guests. Make us proud.” She commanded her slave.

Swinging his head towards his companion, “Do you think she is screeching at you or me?”

Daenerys almost feinted his voice was deeper than it had been a mere half a year ago and it was lovely to hear. Low and husky it made her warm inside. Maybe she would like her mother to…

_ Stop it Daenerys!_ She reprimanded herself.

“You! Why do you embarrass me in front of my guest? She will think you insolent and will not desire to see you succeed.” First Daughter stomped her foot, showing she was not that much older than Daenerys and could fall into tantrums too.

“I don’t care.” He looked at the worried look of his companion “That succinctly answers those points.”

First Daughter looked perplexed, Daenerys had to stifle a giggle at Jon’s insolence. “Succinctly means neatly or nicely or easily, just in case you didn’t understand the word First Daughter. I do apologise my lady I forgot, silly slave! Use little words for your masters.” Jon’s smile was that of a cheeky child, he obviously had kept his strange dark humour. Daenerys stretched up to whisper in First Daughter’s ear.

“My guest wishes to know what you do care about then.” First Daughter asked. “She wants an honest answer.”

“Why doesn’t your honoured guest ask herself?”

_Because then you will know who I am._

“Do not be insolent slave! Answer the question.” Daenerys asked another whispered question. “She also wishes to know your name.”

“Why don’t you tell her First Daughter?” There was a challenge in his tone.

“He is a slave princess he has no name. Now answer her question.”

“Be honest,” He looked at Daenerys and addressed her. “I do have a name, First Daughter and Great Master Wazir have never bothered to ask for it.”

“Why should we? You are a slave, our property.”

“Oh, because it would be polite and respectful. Also, you could answer your honoured guest.” Daenerys again asked her questions of First Daughter.

“You are a slave and you deserve only what we your masters decide. Now answer my guest’s questions.”

“Which questions were they?”

First Daughter was getting frustrated. “What do you care about? Your name.”

“Well I don’t know your guest well enough to tell her such things.” With that he turned away and picked up his harp and started to pluck at the strings humming with the music he was playing.

“It does not matter how well you know her, answer.”

“It does to me.” He said to the air not the girls.

“Pretend she is someone you know well enough to tell then.” Jon smiled a wicked smile.

“Oh, so I am to be freed and married to this guest of yours?” Daenerys gasped. First Daughter even gasped. Jon chuckled and so did Barristan as quietly as he could.

_The lad is a quick mind._ Barristan understood how he could have survived so long.

“No!”

“I mean it is a bit sudden, I am not even totally grown, and she looks pretty small herself, is she even old enough to wed?” Jon looked up at the cloaked girl, and gave her an appraising sweep of his dark beautiful eyes.

“I said no! You are a slave, she is royalty!”

“I was not the one saying we should wed, you said I should imagine her close enough to me for me to tell her what I care about, well I would confide to my wife, but not a stranger. Royalty or not.”

First Daughter groaned in frustration at him and led Daenerys away. Daenerys thought it a brilliant idea, she would marry Jon if it saw him free, then they could annul… no they could just stay married for a while.

After the two young women had left, Jon set down the harp and stared at one of the walls of his cell. He took a deep breath.

“You have no fear do you Dragonsword, provoking First Daughter so in front of her guest. What were you thinking?”

Jon was only half listening, as he inhaled deeply. His face was a mixture of thoughtfulness and perplexion. Finally, he replied.

“Do you smell honey and roses?” He could swear he had caught the light scent of them. It was confounding, usually the scent only came to him in his dreams. Ghost, Dayne and that scent, the things he missed, and it wasn’t always in that order.

“What? You are full of crazy words tonight.” Taine shook his head at Jon.

“Also, Taine could we skip the _Dragonsword_ crap, it is Jon.”

“Except when the Masters are around to learn it right? You are crazy Jon.”

Jon however was no longer in his cell in Meereen, he was in his homeland, or what he had known of it. He was contemplating the answers to the questions the guest girl had asked. What did he really care about?

_Nothing_. He told himself, caring about something hurt and you always lost it. He knew however that was a lie, not the losing the losing always happened but about what he cared about – he did care about some things.

_ Ghost._ His Direwolf all alone in Westeros, if he was even still alive. Had Aerys found him? No, Jon knew Ghost was alive, he felt it. Sir Dayne was probably keeping him well. However, he knew Ghost would be suffering their separation as he was.

_Sir Arthur, Oswell and Gerold._ The Kingsguardmen who had kept him for all those years, especially Sir Arthur Dayne. He cared about them, they had watched him and cared for him as much as they were allowed; more when they could.

_ The Queen._ Rhaella Targaryen, she had always been kind to him. He didn’t love her, he was sure, or was he? No, he wasn’t sure because other than Ghost he’d never been allowed to truly experience love, so how could he know what it felt like. Or maybe he had, distant and reserved due to circumstance. He remembered the day – foggily – of the 15 + 15 + 15 punishments, and the gentle way the Queen had cleaned his wounds and kissed his head and strangest of all wept for his pain. Did the Queen love him for some reason or was she just sympathising with a fellow victim of her husband’s madness? He did miss her gentle smiles when she saw him, as if somehow **he** brought her joy.

Strangely he found he cared for one other thing, something he found almost insane to care about, a scent. That scent earlier, had he actually smelt it or was it his mind playing a jest on him? The scent of honey and roses, and the sweet voice that belonged to the scent. He had never seen the girl’s face, as it should be. She was a highborn lady, he was a prisoner. Some days he wished he had seen her face, he was confident that it would have been as beautiful as her voice and her scent but what would he know of beauty? Only since being a slave had he really seen women or girls and sometimes far more than he had wished to. So, he thought about his answers.

_My name is Jon Snow, or least to my knowledge it is. I care about only four things: my Direwolf; my Keepers; my Queen and my… My Lady of Honey and Roses._ With that he turned over, _Wait and my Dragon, please forgive me Belarion, I cared about you too._ Then he tried to sleep, to prepare for his contest in the new day. Sleep he did, dreaming of snow, ice, Ghost and most of all, honey and roses.

First Daughter had ranted about Jon’s insolence, her embarrassment and how she should have him flogged for insulting Daenerys all the way back to the main living area. Daenerys quickly dismissed the need for punishment, to which First Daughter laughed saying of course he wouldn’t be flogged he was too valuable to damage, she did note a previous master must have disagreed though – the princess’ memory burned with the incident of disagreement.

“How was your visit Daughter? Does the Queen need to negotiate with me for her daughter? Princess was he desirable?”

“Daenerys? Do I need to negotiate?” The Queen thought how overwhelmed her daughter must be with all this, the girls of Meereen grew up much faster than those in Westeros. First Daughter had probably already lain with a pleasure slave and Daenerys had never even held a boy’s hand affectionately.

“No, Mother.”

“You did not like him?” Great Master Wazir was surprised.

“He was insolent father.” First Daughter frowned.

“That is a problem. Did you think him pleasing to the eye if not to the ear?”

“He was pleasing enough to the eye and the ear, but I am betrothed.” Daenerys said looking at the floor. A fact she hated even more now she had seen and heard Jon.

“Still you could go to your wedding bed with experience.” Master Wazir said. “For a sum.” Daenerys’ head snapped up and she looked stunned by the idea.

“Such is not done in our realm. A girl goes to her wedding bed a maid and it is in her wedding bed she loses her maidenhead.” The Queen explained.

“Daenerys fears we have exaggerated his skill so I told him he would fight tomorrow.”

“He will not.” Wazir said calmly.

“Why Father?”

“Because we need more time for rumour to circulate that he is about to step on the sands, and to devise a spectacular combat to show his talents to our guests.”

“Spectacular is not required.” The Queen worried the Great Master may go too far and Jon may be endangered because of it.

“Unfortunately, Queen Rhaella spectacular is all he does, he is not capable of mediocre.”

* * *

“Well?” The king asked of his advisor.

“The Lion has arrived in the Rainbowed City, soon he will make contact with the Prince.” She held the Pigeon that brought the news. “Kasmira is not far behind.”

“Soon, Duncan will be home.” A smile came to his face.

“Yes.” She turned to leave the king on his throne. As she exited the door, she turned to look back at the door. “We will not be calling him that. Lyanna Stark would never have named him that.”

* * *

“Well?” The king asked his advisor.

“The Queen and Princess have arrived in Meereen, they have made contact with the Boy’s owner.”

“Has he harmed the boy?’

“Not to our knowledge.”

“Make it ‘to your knowledge’! I will not abide him being harmed! Go!” Varys did not understand his king, he coveted this boy, yet he was the one who had tortured him the most. Varys was the Master of Whispers, but this whisper could not be found by his little birds, those that may have discovered it disappeared, so Varys no longer sent them to find it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Setup for the spectacular event.  
Why yes the legends of his skill are unbelievable, but that is why this is not history but Fantasy. Roll with it and don't get mired in it. I don't care how ridiculous it would be, it just is.


	15. Plans Start to Formulate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude before the Great event that will see Jon in combat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> realised I am bad at Chapter summaries and Chapter titles.

Daenerys was excited to talk to her mother when they finally retired from their hosts. The Kingsguards removed themselves to guard the doors of their suite, Daenerys almost leapt into her mother’s lap as she tried to get close to her. “Oh, Mother it is true, Jon Snow is in the bowels of this pyramid. He looks healthy and strong, they really have been looking after him.”

“As a piece of valuable property.” The queen was no longer holding up her gentile façade. Her disgust was evident in her tone. But then she looked at her daughter, noting the bright wide eyes and the joy evident on her beautiful features, the queen did not remember Daenerys ever smiling so widely. Queen Rhaella smiled at the effect seeing Jon had had on Daenerys. It was as if without knowing it Daenerys had been living her life asleep, but now the sight of him had woken her to life. Rhaella realised that maybe her daughter had been falling in love with the Boy in The Black Cell and that Aegon would never have Daenerys’ heart because as her brother Rhaegar before her Daenerys was drawn to the ice that complimented her fire.

“I am gladdened that he is well. Did you speak to him?” Her voice was softer.

“He spoke to me, but I didn’t want him to recognise me in case it put your plans or him in danger. He is still as irreverent as ever. He was playing a harp when we entered, his skill is as good as ever. It was excellent to see him alive and …” Daenerys was breathing heavily from her excitement and had to stop to catch her breath.

“Daenerys.” Her mother gazed at her suspiciously. “How many times did you meet Jon in the Red Keep?” Obviously more than Rhaella knew of.

Daenerys went silent and held her breath, had she just expressed too much about her thoughts of Jon, was her mother angry or disappointed with her interest in him? “Uumm.”

“I am not angry dear one, only curious. You should not be this breathless about a boy – young man now – you have only seen two or three times. So how and when did you see him outside the times I know about?”

Daenerys could not lie to her mother and told her everything. How Viserys had dared her and the others, how curious she was about Jon’s background; her theories on his origins, everything. Even the strange effect he had on her, the warmth he elicited in her with just his words.

The Queen smiled. “You have quite a crush my daughter,” Daenerys blushed brightly, “and quite a fertile imagination. I will tell you that you are correct that the blood of the North and the Starks flow in his veins, but he is not the son of Lord Stark. He is in absolutely no way however related to Robert Baratheon. I cannot and will not tell you his true parentage, but I will say we cannot allow him to remain in slavery.”

“How are we going to change that mother? He will fight soon enough, he could die.” Daenerys’ eyes started to well with tears.

“He survived this long on his skill, I am sure he will survive a few more days.” Rhaella hugged her daughter. “How we are going to change that is simple. We are going to buy him.”

“Buy him?” Daenerys blinked in shock, slavery was outlawed in Westeros the mere idea was appalling.

“Yes, I have already spoken to Great Master Wazir about fees.”

“Fees? Mother you heard First Daughter the fee to …” Daenerys could not finish the sentence.

“Be bedded by.” Her mother provided.

“Yes, are probably enough to buy the Red Keep. How do you propose we afford outright ownership?”

“Do not concern yourself with that now. I have only spoken to him of fees not full purchase.” Daenerys’ eyes went wide, and her cheeks brighten with blood as she realised what fees her mother had been discussing and what it meant for her. “I said if he was to your liking after your visit I would negotiate further in the morning.” Daenerys sat dumbfounded on her couch. Was her mother serious? “Then after his combat I’ll change my mind and say I’ll buy him outright for you. Daenerys you seem very quiet my child. Oh, you need not worry the negotiations will not stall on the first part. Now go to bed. May your dreams be sweet.”

Daenerys rose to comply then stopped as she thought to ask her mother a question. “Mother did Father brand Jon?”

“What?” The Queen wonder where that question came from.

“Jon’s cellmate called him Dragonsword. I thought it strange and asked First Daughter, she said he had a brand on his right shoulder. Did Father do that to Jon too?” Daenerys felt her anger rising at the thought.

“No, it is a birthmark according to Sir Arthur.” Rhaella relieved her worry. “Arthur said at his birth it did indeed look like it had just been burned into his skin, but it was always there.”

“How would Arthur Dayne know if it was always there?”

“I suppose he saw it when he delivered Jon.” The queen replied casually and then she looked quickly at her daughter, but Daenerys had already masked her surprise and her thoughts in the moment it took for their eyes to meet.

“I am glad it is not another torture Father did to him.” She shrugged as if that had been the only information she had absorbed. It wasn’t though, now she knew Arthur knew very well who Jon’s mother was at least and Arthur had been present at Jon’s birth, which was intriguing. Why would a Kingsguard be at the birth of a child, and where was he born that Arthur delivered him? Why were there no physicians or Maesters?

Daenerys’ dreams were something, she was sure sweet wasn’t the word. She dreamed of men fighting for their lives; for the amusement of the crowds, Jon fighting to amuse the crowds. Then suddenly her dream self was in her apartments and Jon was dragged in for her amusement in chains as she rose to approach him to ‘amuse herself’ he was dragged out and burned alive in front of her to her father’s cackling; Viserys’ smirk; her mother’s weeping and Ghost’s lonely howls. She screamed as his skin turned red, bubbled and then went black in the flames, and a strange silver man rushed into the flames to try to pull Jon out. She woke sweating and screaming, Sir Arthur was there in a second and her mother not far behind.

“He was burning.” Was all Daenerys repeated crying. It took her mother an hour to calm her down. As she drifted back to sleep Sir Dayne told the Queen he would watch over her.

Daenerys woke to find a tired Sir Dayne still standing watch over her. She thanked him adding an apology for making him keep watch. He smiled at her.

“You are not the first child I have had to watch over when plagued by nightmarish visions of people burning.” Daenerys realised here in front of her was probably the best authority on Jon Snow in all the world. If anyone was to know about him it would be his most regular guard. Could she let this opportunity pass?

“Sir Dayne do you know who Jon Snow’s parents are?” Ask the big questions so the others seem less so and maybe he will be more likely to answer the others.

“Yes, princess I do.” He did not elaborate, and his voice was flat and emotionless.

“Elia says they loved each other greatly and that they would have loved Jon just as greatly.” Daenerys paraphrased hoping it would elicit a better reply.

“She is kind to say so. I believe she is correct.” Nothing.

“Mother says he has the blood of the Kings of Winter, is a Northerner of House Stark but not the Lord of Winterfell’s. Is he Lord Starks’s nephew?”

“He is born for Winter and ice does flow through his veins.” Nothing new.

“Is he a Stark?” Daenerys decided direct was better.

“We are all half something princess. Except some Targaryens like yourself.”

“Alright, so obviously no one is going to give me a straight answer about Jon’s parents.” Sir Dayne smiled at her realisation. “Can you at least tell me if he is trueborn or baseborn?” The knight shook his head. “Father called him ‘Snow’ which says he is a bastard, but Elia says that is not his name. Jon is an enigma.” She sighed, then looked at Arthur Dayne and asked a question she knew he would not answer. “What name did his mother give him?”

“Jon.”

“But Elia said.” Elia inferred he had another name. “Did she lie?”

“Although deception is a way of thinking for the House of Martell these days, she did not lie. This time.”

“You just said… Sir Dayne you are being contrary.”

“That is not all she named him, but Jon is indeed one of his names.”

“What are the others?”

“I cannot say.”

“Would it be so very telling to hear his other names?”

“It would tell you everything, they are very enlightening. And it is too dangerous for them to be known.”

“It is dangerous to know Jon’s name and origins?”

“For him very, the fewer who know the less people that will follow your father’s lead of harming him.” She definitely did not wish Jon to be harmed, so she let that slide.

“So, if you will not speak of his heritage, how did he get Ghost?”

“A gift.” Sir Dayne was obviously measuring his responses.

“From whom? Who knew a boy locked in a Black Cell existed? He said he took his first steps in there.” She looked quickly at the knight after revealing she must have spoken to Jon; all she saw was a slight smile and a raised right eyebrow. At least, he did not yell at her for going down to see Jon and speaking to him.

“Those with an interest.” Arthur found it amusing to think all these people with interest in the boy were paled by the Princess’ obvious concern.

_ Who would have suspected? The Boy and Daenerys._

“Curse you Sir Dayne! You’re the one who probably taught him to be an enigma.” She huffed, the knight just shrugged. “Alright. How about you just tell me something, anything about him; since my father wants him weakened and my mother wants to buy him.”

Sir Dayne’s eyes sparkled with mirth, he leaned in very close to the princess’ ear and spoke low so no eavesdropper could hear. “His favourite scent was you.” Daenerys gasped. Sir Dayne leaned back and stood straight. “He did not know you were Princess Daenerys, but he knew you. How did he put it? Oh yes.” He breathed. “He knew you ‘had an exquisite scent that surely the Old Gods themselves must have fashioned’. Then something about only the Goddesses could come close to equalling it.” The princess blushed and the knight chuckled. “He could be quite a romantic boy when he was not brooding. Would you like to know anything else?” She shook her head unable to speak though she wanted to know much more she worried she couldn’t handle any more if it was anything like that knowledge.

“How did you know he was talking about me? It could have been anyone.” She asked when she finally got her voice back.

“Princess Rhaenys and yourself were the only young females that could walk freely enough in the Red Keep to even get near him. And Rhaenys was a little too old for the girl he described, and he described you well considering he must have never seen your face or hair. I will say he swore me to secrecy as he didn’t want King Aerys harming you.”

“Still that does not mean it was me.”

“The ‘Girl of Honey and Roses’, I had to swear to secrecy before he even mentioned he’d been visited by anyone. You wanted to help care for Ghost.”

“I could just be kind.”

“You are princess, but you did not jump back when you saw Ghost that day in the cell, meaning you have met him before and you are the only person his did not test for scent, meaning he knew you too.”

Daenerys laughed, “So the Boy from the Black Cell was concerned for the Girl of Honey and Roses. How silly that sounds, the long-winded descriptions instead of our actual names.”

“If your brother Rhaegar were alive he would write a song of it.”

“Elia says if Rhaegar was alive Jon wouldn’t have been in a Black Cell. Rhaegar wouldn’t have put the boy in a cell if he were king instead of Father. Would Rhaegar have shown more mercy to Jon and his family, Sir Dayne.”

Sir Dayne’s features showed great sadness at her inquiry. A despair that was evident in his voice when he answered. “If Rhaegar was alive… If he was alive, we would not be in Meereen now; you would not be betrothed to Aegon ; and Jon, well Jon would be probably sitting under a Heart-tree with Ghost’s head on his lap and a smile on his face.”

“Rhaegar would forgive whatever crime Jon’s family perpetrated against the crown?”

Sir Dayne sounded angry, not at her but at the idea. “There was never a crime princess. Your father is a monster, a mad paranoid monster.”

“Then why do you serve him Sir Dayne?”

“I do not. I serve Rhaegar, he made me vow him an oath and I serve that oath. I will serve your brother and keep my promise to him until my death.”

“What promise did you make my brother?” Her voice was soft.

“I cannot answer that princess, but maybe one day it will be evident, but not this day.”

“Alright Sir Dayne. I think I am brave enough for more information you will tell me about my Boy in a Black cell.”

“Your boy?” Sir Dayne raised an eyebrow.

“In that song Rhaegar would write. I did not mean Jon was mine.” Though she did think of him as hers, wished he was.

Arthur Dayne laughed. “Well at least until your mother sells the Red Keep and buys the lad, then maybe he will be your namesday gift.” He was jesting with her but a small part of her disappeared into the idea of Jon being hers, not as a slave of course, but Sir Dayne had also said if Rhaegar was alive she would not be betrothed to Aegon.

What if she lived in a world where the Boy in the Black Cell was free and a good king at on the Iron Throne; a world where maybe she and Jon could meet as equals. Well of course not equals she would still be a princess and he was not a prince, but he maybe a son of a great House. Would Rhaegar have let Jon – if he was highborn – court her? What would Jon be like if he grew up free? Would she ever have met him? So many possibilities but none of them actually possible. Life was as it was; Jon wasn’t free, and she was going to marry Aegon.

“You look darkened Princess.” Arthur saw something had cast her into shadow, he knew it was not thoughts of Jon, because as they had spoken, the Princess had grown brighter with each passing moment.

“I do not wish to be Aegon’s bride.”

“Why?” Though he could guess.

“He doesn’t make me happy.” She knew it was selfish, but she wanted to be happy. Would she be happy to be Aegon’s bride if Viserys hadn’t dared them into the bowels of the Keep? Daenerys’ imaginings were interrupted when her mother entered the room with First Daughter in tow.

“Daenerys was plagued by nightmares last night, she has just awoken.” Her mother explained. “Perhaps another day.”

“No, it must be today.”

“What must be today?” Daenerys asked.

“I have a morning adventure for us, Princess.”

“I do not think I can this morning First Daughter.” She really did not feel up to it.

“And we are going to the markets mid-morn on a shopping excursion, in search of a dress for this spectacular event your father plans.” Her mother explained. Daenerys was not aware of that, but she nodded.

“This will not make you late and I promise you will like the adventure, it will be _visually spectacular_.” First Daughter said the final two words very slowly, then Daenerys realised by her tone, she meant it would include seeing Jon.

“If it won’t see me late.” Daenerys turned to her mother. “I would like to see what First Daughter thinks would be so wonderous. It might be distracting from my terrors.” Arthur smiled at the princess as he guessed the reason for the change, he did a hand movement around his head and Daenerys grabbed a silk scarf to hide herself. Her mother seemed clueless.

House Wazir had a small practise arena for their slaves to hone their skills. First Daughter had a vantage to watch the practice from, on a higher level, so they could be away from the blood, because they were still vicious fights. Each fighter was given a sparring partner.

Jon’s was a large man with a shaved head and a mighty looking beard with bells in it, copper skinned and black haired. His weapon was a curved almost semi-circular blade.

“He is Dothraki. They wear their hair in braids.” First Daughter explained to Daenerys’ confusion. “They cut the braids when they are defeated. He loses to The Champion a lot. So, he shaves his head.”

“First Daughter, I find it strange one so young is considered so proficient at battle, he has according to your own story, had less than a year’s experience. How can he be Champion?” She found it very strange as he had lived most of his life in a cell.

“He is unbelievably talented with a sword. It is like he enters a trance in combat. It is divine to watch.” First Daughter explained.

Daenerys was not watching the sparring for the combat or the blood, she watched it for the Boy from the Black Cell. She had never truly found a use for boys and the fascination other girls had for them flexing their talents. Jon Snow however was different, as he ducked and weaved the princess was spellbound. Not by his martial prowess but by him. Simply him.

She had missed him every day since his father had falsely released him. His voice, his beautiful dark intelligent eyes. Sir Arthur said she was his favourite scent. Well, if she were honest, she had been pretty partial to his too. A smoky wood smell and something else, something he should not smell of, leather.

She watched him transfixed now, as his muscle slid beneath his skin and the sweat that beaded on his brow at his exertions. Daenerys did not know why he had such a profound effect on her, but he was the only boy that did. All her mother had to do was say his name and Daenerys would have followed her anywhere.

At the end of his spar Daenerys watched as he poured a jug of water over his head and traced the rivulets as they flowed down him. Her breathing was accelerated she was sure she was as hot as him, having only watched the bout he participated in. She blushed as she noticed First Daughter smiling at her.

“Quite fine.” The girl smirked. “Do not be ashamed he is a fine boy to get hot about.”

First Daughter did not say anything else as she walked Daenerys back to the guest apartments she shared with her mother. Though as she left, the girl told Queen Rhaella that their activity as quite vigorous and Daenerys might need a bath to wash off all the wetness of her ‘sweating’.

Her mother had eyed her strangely. Told her she did look flushed and she should have a quick wash off to tidy herself up as they would be in the heat and best to start off as clean and fresh as possible. Daenerys was sure First Daughter had been sending her a message with the last words but she did not understand it.

They spent hours in the Markets, shopping for fabrics, dresses and jewellery. Daenerys did not see the point, she was betrothed, her mother married and all this was extravagance they couldn’t afford, not if her mother wished to purchase a very expensive slave. She heard the whispers that ‘The Champion was fighting in a few days’, everyone seemed excited. Maybe Jon just had that effect on everyone.

Daenerys could not help herself she found herself imagining what could happen after her mother purchased Jon and freed him. He was thankful and gracious in his appreciation. He usually stepped forward in her daydreams to tell her he loved her and wanted her to stay in Essos with him.

Many, well all her dreams ended in him kissing her, held tightly in his strong arms, crushed to his … she usually had to stop there, because she had no experience and she got every hot and nervous. Had the kingsguard and her mother asking if she were alright.

_ No. No, I am not. I am dreaming of things I want to damn well occur, so I know how they feel! _Daenerys was angry at herself for having all these thoughts of infidelity, she should be loyal to Aegon, but she just really couldn’t look at Jon and even remember Aegon existed.

If her dreams weren’t stressful enough, First Daughter came every morning to take her to see the practise sparring, so she was reminded every day of what she was dreaming of was real and only metres away.

“Mother you told The Great Master the first day you would discuss fees, but you also told him I will go to my Wedding bed a virgin so how…?” She knew by side whispers there were other things to be thought of when it came to boys and girls. Maybe her mother could explain some of these things.

“Oh Sweetling, firstly from an old woman to a girl there are many pleasures a man can bestow on a woman that will not take her maidenhead. Secondly, I could be talking about bringing you back after you are wed.”

“After. Mother that is a year away.”

“Yes, but if I bid high enough, he may be forced to wait that long for the payment.”

“But why would we return for that after, I will be Aegon’s wife and I…”

“Do you think all Wazir’s bidders are unwed? Married women are bidding I can reassure you.”

“Why? They are married.” Not every one of those women could have a loveless marriage as she was bound to have.

“Sweet girl you are young but simply, not all men are created equal.”

“Mother!” Daenerys did not wish to discuss Aegon’s endowments, whatever they were.

“I mean in skill and care. Though in that way too. Some men are rough, and some so self-centred in the wedding bed that you feel discarded when they are finished. Some men make you feel like a goddess with just a touch.”

“Oh.” She did not understand, but some deep inner part of her was listening.

“Aegon I have a feeling will not … maybe disappointing. So, a good mother would be mindful of that.” Rhaella was sure Aegon was skilled. Apparently, he had been testing those, not that she would endanger her grandson by informing her husband. She thought however as skilled as he was, he would not please her daughter, because she also felt skill was not what Daenerys would desire in marriage.

“But you don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t but that is what I told the Great Master. That I wish you to have one brilliant experience, and your betrothed is not likely to be it.”

“That is not nice Mother.” Rhaenys had inferred Aegon was proficient. How had Rhaenys known that? Then Viserys words came to her. She shuddered as she thought the pieces equalled incest. Rhaenys and Aegon. She shuddered again. Her reaction had her mother gazing at her.

“Answer me this Daenerys, well answer yourself this: If you imagined your wedding night and bed, who’s face would you like hovering above you?”

“Mother…” She sounded shocked, she was concerned because her answer was not Aegon now she actually thought about it. If she imagined a face hovering… _Oh dear._

“Mine is not your father’s. I only had one blessed moment of love,” She looked on her daughters shocked expression. “How I know one does not need lose their maidenhead to be pleasured by a man. I went to my wedding bed pure and have regretted it every day because your father.” The Queen stopped and stared into the distance. Daenerys felt she did not really wish to know about her father’s intimate performance. “Daenerys, I think your father was no happier about us marrying than I, he never has done anything with passion. His madness stems I think from us being forced to marry.”

“Really?”

“Your father was a fine prince and knight once Daenerys, how else could he have raised Rhaegar to be so great, but he slowly slipped every day as we endeavoured to do our duty. I didn’t help.”

“Mother?”

“I hated it. I loved another and that ate at your father. I cried all the time and we were once so close as children, we used to share from the same plate at mealtimes, but now we can barely stand to be in the same building. I miss my brother, even if I hate my husband. I really miss my brother, I loved him so much.” The Queen began to weep for her loss.

When Daenerys went to her bed that night, she dreamed of her wedding night and it was not Aegon’s face hovering before hers. The eyes were dark and intelligent and the smile luminous. There was one errant black curl in front of his eyes she just inched to push aside, and his closeness was soothing and made her feel safe.

Now if only she knew those things a man could do her dream would have been perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: It is the big fight day.
> 
> Am unsure whether fight will be part of this next chapter or one after will depend on size.
> 
> Also Warning, I know how unrealistic it is for Jon to be a great swordsman due to age and experience or even to be the Champion. However that is how it is, ridiculous or not so I will brook no complaints about it, because it is part of the mythos for the story and that is that.


	16. A Great Event

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lead up to the combat the Targaryens were promised.  
Things go pear shaped when the theme of the combat is revealed.

This was it the day Daenerys would be seeing Jon, hopefully not die. She dreamed he would look up into his Master’s box and fall instantly in love with her, like in the songs. Finally, there would be no hoods or cloaks or wraps between them. She was nervous, because in King’s Landing he had never seen any girl, but in Meereen he would have seen many and probably in many forms of undress.

What would Jon think of her? They said she was beautiful, but that was in Westeros. They said she was beautiful here too, but would Jon agree. She did not know why she cared what he thought of how she presented. She did though and desperately.

She had styled her hair a thousand times to only brush it our and try again, for something better. Something sweet and demure but powerful, girlish but mature and sophisticated. Up and down and in between. Curled as it did or straight as she could. Decorated and plain. She hated them all, because she thought Jon would find her preening silly, but she could not leave her hair out now, it just looked frizzy from all her attempts. She wanted to cry.

She also looked through all the jewellery her mother had brought with them and had purchased recently in the Essosi markets. Looking for anything that would make her look spectacular, she felt as if she was just making herself gawdy. She did not like any of her dresses either.

Arthur watched his princess with a smile as she rushed about and twisted this thing, this way or that. As she huffed and sighed not happy with the visage she saw in the mirror. All for a boy who wouldn’t care or probably note all these things she was fussing over. Jon was already enraptured by her heart and mind, her face was nothing more than an outward version of her inner beauty and Jon would see her deep glory.

“Sir Arthur?”

“My princess?” He pulled it together and quelled his smile to wear a serious expression as if he had not spent hours watching her preen and flit around.

“What do you think looks more princessly?” She held up two different hair decorations. Arthur gazed at each item seriously.

“Are we trying to impress someone in particular?” He did not look at the girl as she blushed. “You know if I were a princess trying to impress a certain boy I know well.” He paused. “I would choose…” She held her breath for his answer. “… this one.” The knight touched the top of her head. “I think he would like it the best.”

Daenerys turned bright red. “Sir Arthur.” She sighed.

“I do not know that is how I would incorporate your house colours.” He grinned at her, she just went a deeper shade of red. “You need nothing, princess. The lad has spent all of his life in cells, he will be impressed if you don’t have a beard.”

Daenerys could not look at the man teasing her. She looked away and headed off with an arm full of devices that he just told her would not help. She was just trying to make the best first impression she could. It wasn’t funny.

So, when she was alone in her part of the room she gazed out the window at the sky and imagined that moment when she first could look upon the Black Cell Boy without disguises and shadows. When they could just be in each other’s presence.

> He was wearing a dark armour of some type and she was wearing a flowing light blue and gold silk dress. His curls falling around his face and he was reaching his hand forward as he told her she had the most pretty face he had ever seen. He brushed a silver tress out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. His fingers skated along her jaw and made her shiver. She was sure his touch would do that because Lady Margery Tyrell said something like that happened with some young lord she knew. And this was Jon, not some silly lords.

Daenerys’ imaginings were interrupted when her mother entered carrying a lovely new dress for her. It was not the deep blue of her dream. She frowned to think already her dream meeting was being changed. Jon was not going to even want to stroke her face as in her dream, he would probably just shrug at her.

“It is time to get up and dress my sweet. Our contest may not be until later but we must attend all the horrid preliminary fights. I have bought you a new dress, we must look stunning for when we are introduced to The Champion of Meereen at the end of the contests.”

“The Champion?” That was a huge presumption that Jon would be named Meereen’s Champion. He was only The Champion of House Wazir.

“Why Jon of course.” Her mother had no doubt. Daenerys wanted to believe he was the best, but feared he would be hurt.

“Of course.” Daenerys wished she had her Mother’s confidence, she had a pit in her stomach worrying that Jon would die in the contest today. Though she did make a decision about her preparations for the day; she was **not** going to smell like honey and roses today, she did not want Jon to recognise her as the princess watching him battle. She wanted to be The Girl of Honey and Roses when Jon was safe and free. So, she allowed the slaves of the house to add their own fragrances to her bath and perfume. She found she smelled of spices and jasmine.

Her new dress was a light aqua blue, shimmering flowing creation, the material so light it floated around her ankles lifting with any breeze. Gold jewellery was added to hold it at the shoulders, wrists and waist. Rhaella even added a delicate golden tiara to the top of her immaculately braided silver hair. The Kingsguards both gasped at the sight of their princess, she was more than splendid she was spectacular.

“I believe dear knights that my daughter will distract everyone from the combatants in the pit. And hopefully enough to off-balance our host so he slips up and I negotiate a much lower price.” They agreed their princess was definitely distracting.

Daenerys travelled with First Daughter as Queen Rhaella travelled with Master Wazir. She was so nervous she said nothing just looked out the curtains keeping her eyes on the walls of the Pit. She counted each step the slaves that carried them took, ever closer to seeing Jon. She knew she should not be so excited to see a baseborn boy, but she could not help it.

Every man and woman they encountered on the way to the pits seemed mesmerised by her beauty. Rhaella took advantage of this as the Master’s palanquins carried them to the arena, speaking of a meeting for her daughter and boy should he survive. She said it would be a true gift for him to spend time in her presence. He agreed, if he won the boy deserved to see such a girl in person.

“Great Master, my daughter was moved by your fighter and has asked I speak to you about her meeting the man in private after the contest today, should he survive.”

“I am not surprised. However, you know there is a bidding war for the service you ask for your divinely beautiful daughter.”

“Oh no. My daughter is a princess betrothed as we have already said. We do not wish **that** service! Only a meeting, talk that is all or maybe to have him play his harp for her. She was touched by his skill. Her elder brother played, and she has missed him terribly since his passing in combat. Anyway a slave touching my beautiful daughter? Unthinkable!”

“I apologise dear lady, I assumed from our other discussions… He will win and he will play for your daughter, no charge. Payment is allowing Meereen to experience the princess’ beauty.” The queen smiled.

“Now we never did get to how you came to own such a specimen of swordsmanship. However were you so blessed?”

“As I said it is a fine tale.” He grinned at his own self-importance. “I was in Pentos visiting a magister there I know, he had come into possession of the boy – for when I first saw him he was a naïve of the world teen.”

“How did he come to the boy?”

“A man, quite important in your own lands wished to free himself of a troublesome prisoner and sent him – the boy – across the Narrow Sea to get rid of him. I do not know why he was imprisoned but he was ‘given’ to this Pentoshi Cheesemonger friend of mine as a slave, a hard labour slave. Of course, one look at the boy and it was evident he would be wasted at hard labour. My friend did think to sell him to someone in Lys, the lad is very comely, and Lys is famous for its pleasure slaves.” The Queen looked appalled. “Rich ugly people deserve to be able to buy someone pretty to make them feel better Queen Rhaella. However, fate interceded. A Dothraki horde who was staying outside the city and their Khal was known to my friend – most are. There was a little incident, no one knows how the boy angered the Khal, but I would guess it was his insolence or defiant attitude. In any event we – my friend and myself – watched as the unarmed boy disarmed one of his Dothraki assailants of his arkh and proceeded to defeat the three blood riders around him. The Khal joined the fray and the boy almost fell but as the Khal took first blood the boy spun under his sword came up behind him and brought his sword hilt into the back of the Khal’s skull, knocking him down. Another Khal, Khal Drogo offered to buy the boy who defeated his rival, but I offered my cheesemonger friend more money, for my fighting pit gladiator.”

“That is a fine story indeed.”

“I admit I was deceptive with my fellow masters in his first couple of fights.” He smiled broadly at the queen’s curious look. “I said he was ‘untested’, a boy destined for the Pleasure Houses of Lys – which he was – but a severe beating had marked him too much, so I had to take him for the pits, but a pleasure slave as a gladiator.” He raised his hands and wore a mock resigned look.

“A severe beating.” The queen breathed, depressed about the beating.

“You have not seen the boy, but in truth it would not have lower the price they could charge for him at the Pleasure Houses but,” The Master looked thoughtful. “I believe the Lord spoke to me telling me to bring him here.”

“The Lord?”

“The Lord of Light. Most of the Bay worships the old Ghis Gods, the Harpy. I worship another.”

“R’hollor.”

“No. I suppose the westerners – which includes the free cities – believe that misconception, but in the east we know R’hollor is associated with The Lord of Light but he is not the Lord himself. The Lord of Light wanted the lad here and he told me his name.”

“His name?”

“Yes. It is not what the crowds call him or what he calls himself.”

“Really?” The Queen felt concerned, had her ploy been destroyed?

“It was not my place to inform him though.” The Great Master smiled again. “They – my fellow Masters - bet heavily against him of course for ‘household pride’ I had to bet for him, he quadrupled my fortune in three bouts and unfortunately no one with any sense will bet against him anymore but he is still very comely and now he will increase my fortune through his appeal to the women of Slavers Bay. For they come from Astapor, Yunkai, even Lys and Volantis to Meereen to watch my fighter and once they see him in the arena they want him in their bed chambers.” Great Master Wazir couldn’t stop grinning at his good fortune.

“You are a lucky man.”

“Indeed I am. I mean even a Westerosi queen has shown an interest in my fighter. Admit it my fighter and his growing legend is why you came to Meereen.”

“Indeed, he was.” The Master smiled smugly. The queen did not however look caught out. “But not for his fighting prowess. For the stories they tell of his appearance.”

Master Wazir almost jumped I delight. “I knew you were trying to deceive me as to your interest in him.”

Queen Rhaella’s reply was drowned out by the cheers of the crowd as they arrived at the arena. For the mob knew if the entire Household of Wazir had come to the arena, it meant the House’s Champion would be fighting. The family and their honoured guests were quickly ushered to their box. The boxes were all occupied, and the cheaper seats were packed too and probably passed capacity as every inch of possible seating had been taken. The slaves were even sitting on the stairs.

“This is how I make my fortune now, how my Sword and Dragon of Winter makes my fortune for me. I get a tidy sum of gate fees for just letting him step on the sand.”

The Queen’s head snapped around to stare at the Great Master. “What? Why did you call him that?” Her voice was urgent and demanding.

“I meant no offense my lady, I know in your lands your family has the monopoly on Valaryian blood and you are the Dragons of Westeros but the other slaves call him Dragonsword but the arena needs a name with more panache.”

“It was not about offense to House Targaryen, Master Wazir, it is just a strange name to call a slave and I was surprised and curious to its origin.” Daenerys wasn’t sure what her mother was up to but she sounded as if she was nervous and slightly frightened but trying badly to hide it.

“He bears a brand is all.”

“A brand?” The queen seemed to relax. “Just a brand … not a birthmark that looks terribly similar to a brand?”

“My lady?” The Great Master was confused by her question.

“It may not be as we feared my queen. It could just be a brand. It may not be **him**.” Sir Dayne leaned in to comfort the queen with his words. Sir Barristan shifted on his feet uneasy and his face betrayed concern. Daenerys was obviously in the dark to what the ruse was so stayed still and quiet.

“Yes Arthur. It is just a brand.” She paused nervously. “Just a brand, not a birthmark. I mean it probably isn’t even on his right shoulder.”

“Right shoulder?” Master Wazir asked. The brand upon The Champion was upon his right shoulder.

“What is the possibility that it looks like the dragon is sitting a ball of ice with the sword across it.” Sir Arthur said to his queen as if to calm her agitation. As the one most versant with the birthmark he described it.

The Master and First Daughter’s eyes opened wide, for that is exactly what it looked like – it even bore colours on extremely hot days as he whirled in combat. “Why? Lady Rhaella what would such a birthmark mean?” The Master sounded slightly afraid of the answer as he swallowed hard.

“Oh nothing,” another dramatic pause. “Just death and destruction of your House, if he was actually the missing boy.” Daenerys knew of course this was some great ruse her mother was enacting to lower Jon’s price, but she couldn’t help getting caught up in it.

“Mother no!” A terrified look on her beautiful features.

“Most likely not my darling. If only you had knowledge of his face you would be able to tell us right now after having seen the fighter, the other night.” And the other few times First Daughter had snuck her away to gaze upon The Champion.

“Oh, but Sir Barristan did you not catch a glimpse of him?” Daenerys worried she may have overstepped with that question, but old Barristan only slowly shook his head disappointedly. “Oh, of course you did not go with First Daughter and I. If only I had informed, you of the brand First Daughter told me about.” Barristan hung his head as if he had done a great wrong.

“Still daughter, no need to worry our hosts, I’m sure it is not him. If his father even suspected his son was a fighting slave, he would scorch all of Slavers Bay.”

“Or freeze it.” Sir Dayne added solemnly. It was not a father they must fear.

“Oh, the Ice Dragons.” Sir Barristan shivered, “I have heard the tales of the blacken faces of the frozen men.”

The great gong reverberated to signal the start of the games, but Master Wazir’s box was absolutely silent.

The crowds were more mesmerised by the foreign princess and her beauty than the combatants in the pit for the most part. The princess sat at the front of the box, feigning absolute interest in the combats and she endured hours of men killing and maiming each other and various beasts. She was glad although their box had an excellent - too good in Daenerys’ opinion – view of the events it was sheltered enough to avoid any actual ‘spray’ of gore. Something that could not be said of other seats, though the occupants of those seats seemed to revel in the splash of human gore, roaring with every slash.

There was little time to converse for the remainder of the events as even in the spaces between contests, the box had constant visitors, wishing to meet the beautiful foreign princess. Daenerys endured all the attention, because she was not here to be beautiful for these people, she was here to be beautiful for one boy she had not spoken to in too long.

The word of the princess’ beauty even made it into the fighter’s pits and cells. There was a buzz about how the most beautiful girl in the world sat in the stands and her mother was searching for a slave to please her before she wed a foreign prince.

“Have you heard Dragonsword, a beauty from far off lands watches the games in our Master’s box?” The young Westerosi fighter’s voice was full of enthusiasm to be out in the arena, as he always was. Eager to fight; eager to kill; eager for glory.

“Probably that mute girl from the other night.” The dark champion did not sound interested in pretty princesses, mainly because he wasn’t. Ladies were distractions and he hated being distracted when he was fighting for his life. He did not plan to die on the sands, or even in Meereen. He wanted to die free with Ghost beside him, hopefully protecting his home.

“They are saying her beauty is beyond compare, that it cannot even be put into words.” Taine said with excitement.

“Oh what tripe! There are always words to describe everything, it’s just a case of being educated well enough to know the word you want or need.” He found it irritating that he was better educated than his fellows – not surprised but irritated – their overseers and even most of the Great Masters he’d had the misfortune to talk to. Shockingly he actually missed the insane rants of the Mad King, at least they were the words of an educated, thinking man. He laughed at the thought of him missing the man who had tortured him for sixteen years because he found ignorance more torturous.

“You’ll see when you take the sands. Lucky me, I get to impress her first. She will be so impressed with me she will beg to buy me to keep her bed warm.” Taine winked at Jon. “She will dream of me this night.” With that he picked up his helmet and mace and followed the overseer out of the pit into the arena.

“May your blood bless the sands, my friend.” Jon watched with a feeling of dust and ash in his stomach; he feared he would not see his cellmate again. His great regret would be a fellow Westerosi lost to the arena, the only one left.

The overseer returned and threw a set of armour at his feet. “What is this?”

“Your armour for your combat.” Jon gave the ugly overweight scarred man a confused look. “Your combat will be themed. The Great Masters wish to honour some foreigner by giving them a re-enactment of a Westerosi battle. This is your costume.”

“Am I playing the victor or the defeated?”

“I believe your character died in the real battle, but you can choose to change that outcome.”

_ Why would I choose to die? These people are idiots! _

The man walked away leaving Jon with his armour. “I will get the sword ready.”

“I get to start with a sword?” He rarely started with a weapon, the crowds preferred he stole it from an opponent.

“No, but I have to set it up as it is a special one and no stealing it this time, you just need to get to it. Oh, and you get a horse.”

“I am either extremely blessed or this is going to be a terrible combat.” As the overseer left laughing at the Champion’s dark humour Jon picked up the leather armour. It was fashioned to look like the breastplate of the plate mail armour of a Westerosi knight. Jon shuddered internally; plate mail never meant good things if you were not trained to wear it. As he looked at the black suit of armour his heart sank, he recognised not just the emblem on the front but the battle they were re-enacting and who he must be portraying. The conflict was the bane of his existence: The Battle of the Trident. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he would be playing the part of the Targaryen Crown Prince, Rhaegar.

“Bloody Hell!” Jon swore throwing the armour against the far wall. “You know I don’t look anything like this man!?” He knew no one cared or was probably listening. He walked over and picked the leather up, wondering what day it was and remembering those terrible words: ‘Do you know what day it is?’

“What day is it?” Surely it couldn’t be the anniversary of the Trident, no it was too soon. What if time had escaped him? What if the Mad King was in Meereen? The foreigner and the beautiful foreign princess, could it be King Aerys and his daughter Princess Daenerys?

Jon had never actually met her as she was always standing behind someone, but she was supposed to be a beautiful girl. Was it that day and the king had set up the perfect punishment for his lost victim, to die as the man the king blamed Jon for being the cause of his death. It was sick enough to be one of the king’s amusements.

“No, I have never bent to his amusements and I won’t start today. Prince Rhaegar will not only survive this Battle of the Trident, he will be victorious!” He donned the leather armour glad it only looked like plate, he knew he would be defeated if he’d had to bear the weight of real metal armour, he relied on his speed and dexterity on the sands.

The Dark Champion of House Wazir walked to his gate and waited for his cue. The overseer thrust a helm at him, a gaudy thing with three dragon heads atop it, he threw it back at the man. Let them see no silver haired prince today. He wondered if the real prince’s helm had been similar, because its restricted view would have contributed to his defeat by detracting from his combat abilities. No vision, no chance.

They brought forward a barded stallion. Jon looked at the animal with admiration – it was tall and midnight black, someone had paid a fortune for this horse. Jon could find no fault in him. Until he got to his eyes.

“I will keep you alive.” Jon whispered to the beast, its eyes were almost as red as Ghost’s, it made it look fearsome as if this was the closest thing to a dragon this world could provide. Jon smiled, rubbed its head. “I have missed you, Belarion.” It was a strange thing to say but the stallion reacted to it with a toss of its head and pawing the ground with its front hooves.

> Citizens of the Great City of Meereen, much blood has soaked the sands this day and the Gods of the Arena now bless us for our sacrifices. Today in honour of our foreign guests, the lovely princess who has blessed us with the vision of her form and face we present the last contest. This contest will be a re-enactment of a Westerosi Battle, with Meereen’s own great dark Champion, The Sword and Dragon of Winter as the Dragon Prince will battle the Crowned Stag of the Storms and the Direwolf of the North. May the greatest man win.

Rhaella and Daenerys exchanged concerned looks at the announcement, their kingsguards moved nervously. Rhaella did not wish to remember this battle, let alone see it. She calmed her thudding heart, she could not lose Jon as she had Rhaegar. Her first Dragon, Taken too soon from her and the world, so in her anger she released her own Dragon.

“What are they talking about?” The Queen demanded.

“To honour you and your house we have arranged the last combat to tell the tale of your House’s latest victory. The Battle of the Trident.” The Great Master Wazir said proudly.

“The Trident was no victory for our House! My son was slain there! Sir Barristan was badly wounded, many of our men died, it was one of our greatest defeats!” The Queen was extremely angry, and the Great Master realised the insult he had ignorantly done to his guests. Looking at the Queen’s rage filled eyes he knew this insult would not easily be forgiven.

Rhaella stood to leave, she could barely control her anger. She would have grabbed her daughter and left immediately abandoning all the intense work she had put into her ruse to haggle the Great Master down on Jon’s price. Then the trumpets blared and as she turned to address her daughter and guards, the gates opposite the box opened.

Queen Rhaella was transfixed by the sight of a young man in leather armour fashioned to replicate Rhaegar’s plate walked onto the sands, leading a great black stallion barded in Targaryen colours. He wore no helm revealing his dark curls, and slightly bearded face. From his shoulders flowed a heavy cloak black with the red three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. The crowd leapt to its feet and roared at the sight of their Champion, the slaves started the chant: “Dragon, Dragon, Dragon.” And the rest of the crowd took it up until it sounded like a thunderstorm.

Daenerys turned to see the Boy from the Black Cell and realised suddenly gazing upon him dressed as he was, that Jon Snow was definitely no longer a boy and he didn’t look like a slave either.

The queen could not control her emotions as she sank into her seat. The White Cloaks simply stared. There with different colouring stood their prince. Rhaegar with dark hair, but none could deny it was Rhaegar reborn. As Daenerys was the only one who did not know Rhaegar she was the only one not turned to stone by the sight.

“Perhaps Queen Rhaella if my Champion changes the outcome you will forgive me.”

“Oh, by the Gods! He is **his** son.” Breathed Sir Barristan, Daenerys thought he was very good to return to the ruse, but upon looking into his face she felt that Sir Barristan was not referring to the ruse at all. She turned back to watch as the opponents entered the arena on their own mounts, neither as fine as the black. Quickly stealing a glance at Sir Barristan, she wondered who he saw as he stared at Jon.

His opponents were also clad in leather designed to emulate plate. The biggest, wildest looking one had a great antlered helm and bore a warhammer, he wore a yellow tabard with a crowned stag emblazoned upon it. Daenerys shook her head as she noted although yes, the stag was crowned as the sigil of House Baratheon, it wore it’s crown in the wrong place. He rode a big brown stallion that looked as brutish as its rider. Daenerys worried what this bruiser would do to Jon, who looked small in comparison. The second man was smaller, wore a dirty grey tabard with a dog that Daenerys guessed was supposed to be the Direwolf of House Stark. His horse was less impressive and his weapon a sword, Daenerys had seen drawings of the Great Sword ‘Ice’ and that thing in the man’s hands was an insult.

It was then Daenerys realised Jon had no weapon or shield. How was he supposed to fight? The crowd continued to chant, they did not seem concerned by the lack of weaponry of the Champion and strangely neither did he. Another dozen men entered the arena to make the ‘Usurper’s Army’, Jon was terribly outnumbered.

One man entered on a white steed of good quality barded in white, he also did not wear a helm, which allowed his golden hair to flow around his shoulders. It seemed this white clad knight – who was actually wearing plate mail armour - was to be on Jon’s side but it was just the two of them against thirteen or so. Jon walked his horse to the centre of the arena and looked up at the box of Great Master Wazir and at her. This is why she had endured all the gory visions of the previous bouts, so she could see Jon clearly when he entered. He seemed to look surprised as he noted the silver-haired princess and then her mother – who he of course recognised – then the two kingsguards.

“Who is the White Cloak?” Sir Dayne asked of the Great Master. As he was privy to how Jon appeared he recovered from the visage of the boy – and the reborn prince – quicker.

“That is the noble Sir Barristan Selmy, The Bold.” First Daughter explained. “He is the only one in metal armour because he is a mercenary who volunteered to fight beside our Champion.”

“You have never looked so handsome, greybeard.” Sir Arthur couldn’t seem to help himself. Barristan just groaned at him.

“Lady Rhaella, I fear to ask but earlier you spoke to my father of a missing son. You and your guards have seen our Champion now, tell us he is not that boy.”

“He is.” Queen Rhaella breathed sadly, “I only hope he does not share my son Rhaegar’s fate in this battle. He must live through it.”

Jon could not believe his eyes. There in his Great Master’s box sat the most exquisite girl he had ever beheld.

_ The word is exquisite, not beautiful._ That must be Princess Daenerys. More exciting to him was the kind woman he knew to be her mother Queen Rhaella and Sir Arthur Dayne. This was not a torture of King Aerys, but it looked torturous to the Queen as she looked as sad as she had the day he had nearly died. He almost ran to the wall to climb it to embrace the knight but remembered why he was there, to fight for his life. Still he was excited, two of the five things he cared about were right here in this arena, then the horse snorted.

“Sorry Belarion, why do I keep forgetting you?” Three of the five, all he needed was Ghost and the girl with the heavenly scent and he could die happy. Well not die because he was going to win this thing and die free in Westeros.

He noted out of the corner of his eye a plinth behind his opponents that held what must be his sword, why couldn’t they have just given it to him? He looked at the white knight who seemed to be his only help, the man was obviously from Westeros and **not** a slave. The man was about his age and he seemed overly joyous at the upcoming combat.

“We should have a plan.”

“I have a plan.” The golden young man replied. “I keep my king alive until he kills the one pretending to be a Baratheon.”

“I believe I am actually a prince.”

“Truer words have never been said my king.” The man smiled broadly, and strangely Jon felt comforted by his confidence.

“My name is Jon.”

“My name is Geron. I am your kingsguard Prince Jon Targaryen.”

“No. My real name is Jon. I am only playing a Targaryen.”

“Of course, my king.”

“Okay. You are obviously dedicated to your role. So, the plan is I get my sword, we kill as few people as we can and try to incapacitate instead.”

“Whatever you command. Though I believe for the Targaryen ladies you are going to have to kill the Baratheon beast.”

“Noted.” With that Jon swung into his saddle and the combat began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: The Battle of The Trident.  
Chapter after will be their meeting and when Jon discovers the true identity of his Girl of Honey and Roses.


	17. The Red Keep; The Black Fortress; The Garden of Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile in Westeros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked what was happening in Westeros.  
Truthfully not much, this is a Jonerys story.  
However as Battle of Trident will be a long wait because it is complicated, here is some mind candy.

** Meanwhile in Westeros...**

“Princess Elia, how has life been treating you?” Aerys asked and Elia feared what he wanted.

“As kind as it can be, good-father.” Her voice was soft and apprehensive, but he knew although she was as she sounded, she was not cowered or she would not have used the affection of ‘good-father’, there was nothing good about him for her. That was said to piss him off.

Part of Aerys wanted to announce to the realm that Rhaegar had cast this woman aside and taken a better wife, that there was no theft of a wolf-maid. He, however had to keep his head as clear as it could be. He had to remember Rickard’s words: _Your insane and that insanity will steal all your victories if you aren’t careful._

He could not let his insanity steal this victory. This was his most important victory, he had kept it together for years, he could not lose it now. The very future of the realm depended on him keeping his head together and keeping the heir safe.

So long as The North thought Jon was in King’s Landing they would be loyal; so long as the Dornish of the south thought Aegon would reign after Aerys they would be loyal. Those two powers could crush any between them. Aerys had relied on the two Aegon holding their respective families in line by simply existing.

Aerys was under no delusion that either was loyal to him. He knew Elia was not to be trusted, knew the Aegon in his Keep was not the boy that emerged from betwixed her thighs, but unlike Elia, Aerys knew exactly where her true son was. He was in a caravan of Mercenaries camped outside Meereen, so a Blackfyre daughter could seek a Targaryen prince.

He knew this Blackfyre sought Jon, that is why he had to let Rhaella take Daenerys to Meereen, keep the boy’s eye on the prize. Make sure he came back to Westeros with the determination to win that girl he loved. Aerys did not know if Jon Loved his daughter, but she was such a divine little soul, he could not believe it would take her long to ensnare his heart.

It had not even occurred to Aerys to match the boy and his daughter, until she started disappearing into the catacombs. He had initially been livid, he would stop her. Then Rickard reminded him: _Dragons and Direwolves, Aegon and Torrhen cursed us with that pact_**. **

Rickard spoke of the Pact of Ice and Fire. In the last few generations it had indeed seemed to curse the two Houses, as particular couples of the two seemed drawn to each other.

_ Maybe this is the generation_. Rickard had told him when he was about to lock Daenerys in her room and away from the boy. Aerys was thankful to Rickard for always being the voice of reason in his head. What better way for his family and blood to hold the Iron throne than marrying his daughter to Aegon, he had always said she would.

Or had that been Rickard? Sometimes Aerys did not know. He was thankful though that Rickard remained the voice of wisdom. He did not know what he would do without Rickard holding back the monster that was his insanity.

“It would have been good to have you here in the flesh though.”

_ Whose fault is it that is not how it is?_ Of course Rickard was right, but we all must make sacrifices from the future. Rickard was one such sacrifice. Regrettable as it was it was necessary.

“I beg your pardon good-father.” Elia had no context for that comment from King Aerys.

“How is Aegon? Do you even know?” He smiled at her.

“My son is well.”

“Do you know that for sure?”

“I beg your pardon.” She sounded worried.

“Well, many Houses seek our downfall. Would House Martell stand against the tide for your son?”

“My brothers would go to extreme lengths to see my son safely on his throne.” She did not doubt these words, it was why her true Aegon was in Essos and she had been forced to raise an imposter.

“Even poisoning a girl in her birthing bed.”

“I do not know to what you refer.” What was he talking about?

“I am sure it would have been too much for your gentle heart to be informed.” Aerys decided he should leave her to her thoughts now. Also, he had almost revealed Rickard’s existence to Elia, she could not have knowledge that could weaken him.

He read the message for a fifth time. It was bad, he had nothing to send against this incursion into his realm, and although it was nowhere near his realm yet, he knew it would be. He had to think, but as he looked across the room to Rickard, he saw a distraction. He couldn’t even snap at him because there were other people around. He did not want to look that insane.

He was not prepared. He had sent Jon away to gain something to use to reign with. Word was he was achieving well, but would Rhaella be courageous enough to make an alliance against Aerys’ wishes, while still in Essos? Aerys doubted she would be rebellious enough to wed their daughter to Jon in his absence.

Aerys needed them married, so when the icemen crossed The Wall they would be stopped by the visage of Daenerys standing beside her king, their king. The knitting of House Targaryen, all achieved by the Mad King. He might be mad, but he wasn’t stupid. He had devised a powerful match, that would see his House live into eternity.

“Are they sure?” He knew they had to be to send this crazy message.

“They swear they have seen these creatures.” The soldier said with a quiver to his voice.

“Thank you, we will think on it.” As soon as the soldier was gone he looked again to Rickard, still staring out a window.

“What are we going to do?”

_ Nothing._ Rickard continued to stare out the window. _You boiled me in my armour remember? Only you can do anything_. Aerys wished Rickard would get over that incident, they needed to work together.

“Perhaps I can write him a letter, explaining why we should not be at war.”

_ No. Unless you can return his wife to him._

“I could send him a gift of apology.”

_ No. Unless you can return his son to him._

“I could tell him where to find Jon.”

_ With this movement of his forces, do you really think Aerion has no idea where Jon is? He knows where Jon is, he has already sent someone to Essos and Meereen_.

“We are screwed.”

_ You are screwed._

Aerys sighed. He was screwed. At least he had made Jon as strong as he could before Aerion killed him.

* * *

“The Lion has found the prince.” Myra came to her king. “He is in Meereen.”

“Meereen, surrounded by slavers? How?”

“It seems Aerys sold him.” She expected an enraged roar, but the king for a change was subdued and calm. “I said he was sold into slavery, he was taken to Meereen to be a slave fighter.”

“I heard you.” Aerion spoke calmly.

“I expected… flames.”

“If he is a slave, he can be purchased. Tell the Dragonguard to purchase him.”

“How much is she authorised to bid?”

“All of it.” Myra swallowed hard, ‘all of it’ was a grand amount, even for a prince. “Find out whatever the current price is and triple it.”

“As you wish.” She relaxed, that was sure to be substantial but only a drop compared to ‘all of it’.

“If they don’t accept my offer…” Myra turned to see the wrathful king return. “Turn the sand to glass. Send the Ice Dragons to freeze them in their deserts.” She nodded, she had watched his ire burn since his wife failed to return.

“Your Grace.” She bowed.

“Bring me Duncan.”

“Your grace.” She turned to face her liege. “I understand you wish to honour your wife’s father as he is one of the few Targaryens of the south you liked. Duncan however, it may not suit your grandson.”

“Well, he can tell me he doesn’t like it when he gets here.” Aerion growled.

“He most likely will tell you just that.” Myra was pretty sure Jon would refuse the name. She could not guess what he would accept, but then who knew what the boy had experienced in his life so far.

Aerion waited for the woman to leave. He rose from his throne and walked not to the edge and the behemoth Dragon below but to hidden panel, he released it and took out a small soft cloth toy. It was a Dragon, Blue and friendly looking. It was to be his son’s; but he had been lost with his mother. It could have been Duncan’s but Aerys had hidden him.

“Maybe you could be my great-grandchild’s.” He said as he safely returned it to its resting place. Once Duncan or Jon was returned, they would set to finding him a wife and queen, then Aerion could rest, and play with his great-grandchildren as he should have played with his children and grandchildren.

He smiled as he sat down on his great throne, Myra was probably right, Duncan would refuse his name. He wondered about the boy. He was half a Stark, did that mean he was like Rickard? Aerion did not even know the child’s colouring, was he silver like his family or dark like Rickard’s? Crown Prince Duncan was dark of hair, his daughter strangely silver, had his son been silver?

> “Most definitely.” That is what Valyeria had said when he had mused about whether Valian would be silver like him. She had been so sure of everything. She had told him it was because her mother was a woods witch. Jenny of Oldstones was just a devoted follower and blessed of the Old Gods.
> 
> Valyeria was always firm on what was and wasn’t. She was a strong and solid queen to his people; she was the flame of his heart. But even he, a Dragon King would not tempt her fire, she burned hot. He wondered how the Southern Dragons had subdued her.
> 
> He knew the moment she was dead, he felt it, the utter loss. He knew she had fought, for she would not go down without a fight. The letter Jaeherys had sent saying she died in the flames of Summerhall came before her death, so Aerion knew Jaeherys had held his queen for some nefarious purpose. Something was wrong and Aerion knew the weakeness of his distant cousins.

Had Valian died with Valyeria? Aerion doubted it and as Crown Prince Rhaegar had appeared soon after his queen’s death and he was a might tiny for his age Aerion guessed what had happened. Rhaegar was Valian. He vowed vengeance until his family was returned.

If only he was not barred by the Great Enemy’s sudden stirring, as if he knew the Heir was gone and the great Winter Throne could be empty one day. It could not sit empty, though he may wish to see the destruction of those who took his family away Aerion knew far more would suffer at the Enemy’s hands.

Duncan needed to come home. Aerion would let him choose his name if he just came home.

* * *

Prince Doran sat watching the children play in the pools. He loved the Water Gardens, they held many happy memories of his own childhood. Years spent with his siblings.

“Our sister is losing her nerve.” Prince Oberyn said from his side.

“She has been under great pressure confined under Aerys’ thumb.” Doran was always the calmer prince.

“She has sent word for Connington to have Aegon meet Princess Daenerys in Essos.” Oberyn hissed. He loved his sister beyond measure, but she was not as clever as she thought. “Aerys may know Aegon is an imposter.”

“Aerys was sure to have known. Anyway, Aegon of any silver type is not our concern. Rhaegar’s true heir is. Where is the Dragon now?”

“Again, Elia says he is in Meereen.”

“Then we need to get him out of Meereen.”

“Queen Rhaella is doing just that for us.” Oberyn smiled.

Doran looked at his brother with disappointment. “No, brother she is doing it for her. Not us. If Rhaella succeeds then she will make him her pawn, not ours. We need him here in Dorne to marry Ardiane and make her queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Why not just marry her to Aegon then?”

“Which Aegon do you suggest?” Doran had plans to finally take The Iron Throne and his siblings were losing the plot. It was bad tidings so late in the game. “Aegon the son of a whore who resides in the palace, or Aegon the son of a random Valyrian blooded man from Myr? Aerys suspects our and Elia’s duplicity. He would renounce both of them in favour of Rhaegar’s actual trueborn son. We need Aegon the Black.”

“Aerys would not tarnish Rhaegar’s name by announcing the truth.” Oberyn did not see why Doran and Elia worried so much. Aerys had been holding Rhaegar aloft as proof House Targaryen had not lost its greatest, he would not jeopardise that picture.

“He would, to remove our power to keep his own. If people even knew Elia’s marriage had been annulled our plans would crumble. No, Elia’s son must marry Daenerys to make his claim legitimate. And my daughter must marry Rhaegar’s dark son.”

“I do not see why he is so important. Elia has already said Aerys holds him in such disregard he has tortured the boy. Why do you fear him?”

“Because Aerys has had great opportunity to rid himself of this boy, yet he lives and was hidden from all for too long for Aerys to not hold concern for him. Aerys madness tortured the boy. Aerys however, still must see him as important. And ultimately it does not matter what Aerys sees him as. The Lords of Westeros will see him as their true and rightful heir. He is the trueborn heir and therefore as long as he lives he is the most direct path to the throne.”

“We should have him killed.”

“No, he is primed to wish to destroy Aerys, to seek revenge and we can use Aerys tortures to our advantage.” Doran advised his brother. If nothing else Elia had sacrificed too much for this. Doran understood Elia had been sold to get this throne, and to abandon the plan would negate all her suffering.

* * *

Aerys watched his ‘good-daughter’ as she aided her own daughter to make decisions about her wedding, he saw her pain and he revelled in it. _Serves her right for betraying Rhaegar._

_ It is cruel and Rhaegar would be ashamed_. Aerys hated that Rickard disagreed with him on this. Rickard wanted to be merciful. _Honour him._

Reluctantly Aerys trudged down to the women. Elia looked at him with hatred and Rhaenys with question. He was going to say something nasty but then he looked at the woman who had no idea she wasn’t his grandchild and he felt the mercy Rickard had suggested.

“House Lannister must be taught to tow the line and honour our House.” Rhaenys nodded her understanding and Elia scowled at him from behind her daughter’s head. “But Rhaenys you have been so patient about getting a husband I feel it is unfair to thrust the duty upon you.”

“What are you saying Grandfather?” Was she to be cloistered here longer?

“I am calling off your betrothal.” He saw Elia’s relief and Rhaenys’ disappointment that she was confined again. “I have decided to reward your patience however, you may marry any man of acceptable status you wish. Having said that, I will allow a few to visit you with the potential to court you, if you do not like any of them, you will be able to invite another round until you find a suitable husband,”

“Why are you doing this?” Elia asked suspiciously.

“Because Rhaenys is my first grandchild. She has a special position and it is what Rhaegar would have wanted to do for her, to allow her to choose for love.” Rhaenys shot forward to hug her grandfather, she knew it was not usual and he would hate it, but she was compelled.

He wanted to push her off, to scream for her to stop touching him. He wanted to call guards to drag her off.

_ Take it!_ Rickard did like to torture him sometimes, but he feared Rickard’s wrath more than Rhaenys’ embrace so he did stand there and let her hug him in thanks.

“Thank you, Grandfather!” She was overjoyed, she may have accepted she must marry Tyrion Lannister and do her duty, had even come to like him, but her dreams of a husband had still been different.

Elia was still suspicious. Aerys did not do nice things for people and after Rhaenys had finished hugging him in thanks and excused herself to both process and plan her invitations, Elia continued to glare at Aerys. “What are you up to?”

“Princess Elia. I will be frank. I know far more than you think. That however was because Rhaegar loved that little girl despite knowing she wasn’t his. I will not torture a child Rhaegar loved.”

“Do you think to make me think you are suddenly sane?”

“No, I am mad as a _hatter_.” He grinned at her shocked look; she hadn’t suspected he knew about her secret coded messages. “I know far more than you think., as I said. Mostly I do not care, do not mess in my plans and I will let you live unaccosted. Mess in my plans I will burn you. Your daughter has never messed in anything that I know of and now she will be loyal because I was kind. Do not mess it up for her with your brothers’ ambitions.” Aerys simply walked away he might have gloated about his knowledge of the Aegon lie but Rickard told him to walk away and leave Elia to choose whether she wished to defect to House Targaryen.


	18. The Battle of The Trident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meereen's Fighting Pits does Battle of The Trident and Jon must win where his father failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warn you combat is not my best medium. I also am not too good at gorey.  
It is bloody long, though it is finally done.

“Noted.” With that Jon swung into his saddle and the combat began to the roar of the crowd.

The ‘Usurper‘ indicated for the extra infantry men to hang back and directed them to guard the sword. He had heard tales of the Champion, he needed to keep him and that sword apart. He and his ‘Dog?’ henchman would have a better chance of surviving if they kept the Champion unarmed. He had no idea of this mercenary who chose to fight with him. Surely their number would see them triumphant. Only he and the man dressed with a hound on his shirt moved forward. He prayed Battle would gain him the win.

Geron and his steed knew mounted combat and he could see they were the only ones that might, with the black stallion Jon was riding being the only possible other. Time for some scare tactics.

Geron spurned his gelding to charge at the mounted opponents swinging his sword from side to side in wide circles. The Usurper and Dog were unsure of where his sword would be. They split to avoid him. In that space, Geron spun towards the Dog and pushed in front of his horse.

The division of the two mounted opponents gave Jon his chance, he urged Belarion on and the great black stallion flew over the Usurpers head as if a barely raised bar. Jon lay along his horse, his ear next to the thudding pulse in the horse’s thick neck, black against black. The crowd roared in jubilation at their Champion’s mastery of another skill and his spectacular showing of horsemanship.

Sir Barristan whistled low at the sight; he doubted the boy would have had much practise. Sir Selmy took his eyes off the combat and turned his gaze to his Westerosi companions, the queen and his white brother, Arthur did not seem surprised how similar this lad looked to Prince Rhaegar, especially dressed as him. Had they been aware?

Barristan wondered why he had never been informed Rhaegar’s son lived in a hole in the Red Keep. How had anyone who knew who he was allowed the king to treat him as he did? _Hell!_ Rhaegar would emolliate them if he were alive. The Crown Prince had been a stable-minded royal, but he had both a doom and a fury about him. Rarely did he unleash, but he had for one moment on The Trident – and Robert had started to smoke, then he calmed and dropped his guard and his sword as if he was making a sacrifice.

As Barristan watched the boy on the black land beyond the touch of his enemies, looking a dark version of his father, he understood why his prince had dropped his sword. He also understood his last whispered words. Rhaegar had gone to The Trident to stall Robert.

The crowd was on its feet as the stallion crashed into the standing ‘infantry’. They scattered away from the imposing beast, who snorted as if saying ‘as it should be’. The stallion wheeled before the platform and Jon vaulted from the saddle and bound up the two steps to the plinth which held the sword.

Jon stopped for only a moment to sigh at the beauty of the blade that lay there. It had an ornate Dragon hilt with a large blue pommel stone. The blade gleamed in the sun, though it seemed to be black steel. All gold, black, red and blue shining in the light of the blazing sun. He did not have time to be over-awed by a blade. He grabbed it quickly and turned to find Belarion wheeling around the plinth, waiting for him to mount up again.

Jon leaped and hoped he did not fall on his face in the sand. By what Jon could only guess was an absolute miracle, he not only caught the horse but landed in the saddle. He raced back with his prize to Geron who was happily playing with their main two opponents, riding circles around them with his better skills.

Jon shook his head in disbelief as the white gelding spun on a copper; rushed forward to stop a hair’s breadth from the other horses; reared and brought hooves down in their faces. How the horse did so with the metal clad knight on his back without losing the knight was amazing. The crowd was oohing and aahhing as well.

Geron smiled when he saw the distraction had worked and Jon had his blade. He wheeled his horse to race to the wall and gallop towards a rendezvous with his prince. Geron had not had this much fun in years, rarely did you get to do this in a true battle. He knew he and his horse were not in any danger from these untrained slaves.

The Usurper and his ‘Dog’ turned their steeds unsteadily and tried to pursue the Champion and his guard. The heroes of the sands rode along the edges of the arena close enough to the walls the closest audience members leaned over the walls to try to touch the champion, gain the favour of the Gods of War and Battle, for he must be blessed by ancient Gods.

As they came together at the end of the arena Jon was wearing a huge grin, he did not love the harming of others, but he lived for this adrenaline, like he was born for battle. They had ridden up opposite sides to divide the target they would be, their horses of such an exceptional quality, their opponents trailed behind, far enough back that they had time to converse quickly.

As much as he loved the pump of his blood during battle he was not experienced in this type of battle, he was no cavalry man, he needed advice and Geron seemed to have knowledge.

“I am no Dothraki blood rider or Westerosi knight, how do we fight from horseback?” Jon called to Geron as quietly as he could, so the answer and possible battle plan was not revealed to the opponents.

Geron threw his head back in a great peal of laughter. “You, my king let your instincts and natural talent guide you.” His green eyes shone. “But as you don’t trust yourself as much as I do, let your steed fight for you, he will ride them down. Do not pull his head, right now he has more courage for this type of battle than you do. Our horses will knock theirs down; we jump before the impact; they will not expect this and will fall with their horses. We can hope their horses crush them or ours stample them leaving the infantry.”

“What happened to incapacitate?” Jon asked concerned by the plan, these men were just as much slaves to these circumstance as him.

“A man **_can_** survive a crushed leg or a stampling and honestly, my king, they will not be holding back, we shouldn’t either.” The young Westerosi shared a look and broke away from the wall at a gallop. They crossed paths halfway to their opponent as they realised Jon probably needed to verse the ‘Stag’, it also made their charge look spectacular.

Daenerys was at the edge of the Master Wazir’s Box watching every move Jon made. Probably appreciating the way he moved far too much for a girl betrothed to a prince. She did not know why but she found the movement of Jon’s muscles as he moved fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.

She quickly gazed back to make sure she wasn’t making a spectacle of herself; she was relieved to find everyone else was focussed on the combatants. Which she returned to with relish, watching one in particular. Perhaps imagining it like a faerytale of old, the conquering knight whisking the princess off after winning the battle. _Win the battle Jon_.

Jon felt like he truly was flying on Dragon-back, riding his ‘Belarion’ at his enemy, the wind rushing over him. This was in truth Jon’s first experience of riding a horse at any true speed. It should be his first experience of riding at all, but Sir Arthur had snuck him out one day to teach him to ride, strangely he had said something about how _she_ had loved to ride.

Jon had wondered who ‘she’ was, but he was a small child and truth was the covered courtyard was as outside as he had ever been at the time. The filtered sunlight was so warm on his usually cold skin. He had felt they were being watched but could not see anyone around. He had found it also liked to ride, now he felt the love of it.

Jon shook his head lightly to concentrate on the now, because as nice as reminiscing was, they were in the middle of a battle. He had to concentrate to stay alive. The infantry men came running forward to help their ‘commander’, they had been given instructions on how they were to present themselves in this battle. Some were very nervous, they were honoured too, they shared the sands with the Champion, but terrifyingly they were facing him in battle. For such a young fighter he was skilled, almost like he was born to wield a sword, like it was his only purpose.

Jon charged towards the Usurper, his eyes hard as he stared down the man in black-brown and orange-yellow crowned stag uniform. He was feeling strange emotions as he looked at this visage of a man Jon knew was supposed to be dead for most of his life. Robert Baratheon had always been a confounding subject for Jon. Jon had no investment in Baratheon, his rebellion or his story, yet had always had a perplexing dislike of the man and his reasoning.

When he would read or hear tell stories of the Rebellion or the Battle he was currently re-enacting, he had always questioned Robert Baratheon and his beliefs, not just because he was tortured due to their results. Truth was Jon always felt Prince Rhaegar was more a hero than Robert was. Though none of his guards or even his torturer King Aerys spoke of the abduction of Lady Lyanna, Jon had believed Prince Rhaegar would not have stolen her and she would not have been stolen. Was he a romantic to think Prince Rhaegar simply found love after he was married and not with Princess Elia?

He hated this battle because it was the reason for half his tortured days and because Jon really did honestly agree Prince Rhaegar’s demise was a tragedy. Arthur said free boys played Battle of The Trident and fought over who was to be the victorious Robert. Jon would not have. Jon would happily have been Prince Rhaegar, and not just to be free to play with others. Jon secretly believed Prince Rhaegar should have won.

Who wouldn’t want to be the noble Prince Rhaegar? Not that Jon had seen much of what he believed Prince Rhaegar to have been in the family the man left behind, though he had not met all of them. Still some days in the dark, Prince Rhaegar seemed to be a light in Jon’s life, because everything would be different if Robert hadn’t killed Prince Rhaegar.

Now, however Jon did not have even seconds to contemplate what he had once spent hours in the dark contemplating in the Black Cell he had once lived in. He would not admit it, but he missed that cell, his torturer and the girl that would visit him. He would visit King Aerys one more time to hear her half-chuckle just once more.

The horses thundered on towards their opponents and the two men opposite them started to look worried as they saw the charge was not being pulled up. At the last second Geron shouted ‘My King!’ and Jon dove off his horse to avoid any injury and hoped Belarion would not be hurt too much.

The Usurper dove from his horse, something must have warned him, or he had more experience with mounted battle than his companion, as the false Stark was rolled under his horse as the barded chest of Geron’s gelding smashed into it and knocked it over. He pushed at the steed, but it was shocked and in pain. As it screamed at the discomfit, a princess in the stands wept to hear it. A prince on the sands, closed his eyes and prayed for the horse to recover.

The Usurper’s dive was not steady, and he needed time to recover, as he rolled haphazardly to the side trying to avoid the thundering hooves of the triumphant horses. Belarion looked back as if he would turn to stample the man; as if he knew this man was a danger to his rider.

As the horses’ chests slammed into each other, the crowd gasped, for the powerful muscles colliding made a terrible sound, the Stag may have escaped but his horse fell and by the scream and gurgling sound it had broken something, red froth spurted from it’s mouth with every breath. The crowd loved it; the sands were being blessed with blood this day.

“Surely someone will aid the horse.” Daenerys spun to stare imploringly at her host.

“It is a beast who cares for its life.” Master Wazir smiled as he drank deeply from his cup.

Daenerys looked back tears streaming down her face for the poor creature. She would order one of the Kingsguards to aid it, but that would put them in danger, and it was stressful enough with Jon being down there.

Jon rolled up onto his feet, his sword in hand ready to defend him. His cloak rolled in the opposite direction and so now the only Dragon was on his breast plate and in his heart. He looked around to assess the situation and results of their ploy. He saw the brown gelding of his opponent as the Usurper ran as fast as he could mange to recover behind his men.

He should not do it; he should look to his own health and safety first. He should let it be. He could not. Jon ran across the sands and although he knew the Masters would prefer to let the crowd see the steed’s pain and suffering, Jon could not leave it in such a state. If nothing else, Princess Daenerys should be saved from the visage.

Jon stood above the thrashing and screaming horse, he raised his sword and struck down. “Blessed are those that die in War, for War will give them peace.” The black steel of the sword sliced easily through the Horse’s chest and Jon drove it deep into the steed’s heart, ending its suffering. Half the crowd roared at his death dealing, half ‘booed’ for the loss of entertainment. _These people are monstrous_. He shook his head and looked to his next challenge.

Geron in his metal armour had not come up out of the roll as cleanly but he was back on his feet, which amazed Jon who was sure he would be like a tortoise in the sand: on his back struggling to turn over. The ‘Direwolf’ was still under his horse, who from Jon’s quick assessment was not mortally wounded. And Geron was laughing at the fun he was having though he did look at the dead horse and frown, then nodded his agreement to Jon’s actions. Then he raised his sword and looked towards the fleeing Usurper and his now slowly advancing men.

It was obvious these men were wary not just of the legend of The Champion, but of what they had just watched. The Black Prince and White Knight were dangerous and now it was their turn to face them. Many of them said quick prayers to the Gods of War and Battle, not to save them, they doubted that were possible, but for quick and glorious deaths. Their ‘leader’ was ‘catching his breath’; or sending them in to die and tire the warriors before them.

“How can they face so many and hope to win?” Daenerys whispered to Sir Barristan.

“I think the infantry are asking themselves how they can face those two and hope to win.” Barristan spoke quietly down to his princess. He was impressed by these two lads and they were lads, neither the age to be called seasoned, both still teens. Yet, even Barristan was relieved to not have to face them, because they appeared seasoned. They fought like they had stood back-to-back many battles, and this was just the current time they faced blood and steel together.

Jon stood sword raised as Geron mirror him at his back. The contrasting colours were lost on them, but not their audience. Roars of encouragement rose from the stands. Some women even feinted, not that the two young warriors could see that. Jon moved his eyes slightly to see the Master’s Box. He was not looking for Wazir or First Daughter, he was looking at the queen and Kingsguard and maybe just one glance at the princess.

_ I cannot die today. I need be free and return to Westeros, I need to see the Girl of Honey and Roses before I die. I cannot die today_. If he was honest it was why he fought so well, and never lost. He was determined to see her face before he died, to just once look upon her and speak to her without shadow everywhere. To exist for one moment in the Light with her. So, he fought like he had nothing to live for because he had one very special dream he lived for.

“Shall we do this, Lion?” Jon yelled with a smile.

“We shall, my king.” Geron grinned brightly, for a moment it was not mock battle. For a moment they were on a battlefield fighting for the Light and pushing back the Dark. Jon was his king and he was Jon’s Lord Commander, and none could break them while they fought beside each other. He knew one day they would battle the Dark for the Light again, but today they just had to defeat a travesty of a result to a long fought battle.

Then they ran towards the infantry, swords before them. Charging their enemy. The crowd roared at the excitement, but then everything went quiet as a great roar rose on the air, a roar that froze masters, free men and slaves all. Then a howl, chilling and terrifying.

“Direwolves.” Arthur breathed. “And…”

“A Dragon.” Rhaella said quietly with awe.

“Maybe just one of the Lion’s in the pits.” Master Wazir whimpered, for the roar was too loud and had come from above not the pits.

“Such is their war cry.” A slave woman said as she filled the Master’s cup. Daenerys turned to stared at the woman and saw a flash of burning green in her eyes, hair so red-gold it looked as if aflame. The slave woman smiled and bowed her head before turning away. “Lions, Dragons and Direwolves.”

On the sands they only heard their own roars as they ran, they didn’t even notice the silence of the crowd. They did not notice the ‘Direwolf’s’ mount had stopped screaming and had gone quiet. Did not take notice of how the marching men halted for a second to look around. Jon and Geron just roared their war cries and ran on.

Then the crowd came back to life and roared for combat and blood. Called for Death to descend upon the arena and to do it with gusto. For Death to show his merciless side. For the joy of seeing other men suffer for your entertainment.

As the combatants clashed the extra men parted for the better warriors. Geron swung his sword wide and dove forward to grab a dropped shield. He would make good use of that. He was intimidating, blade slashing out and a shield used effectively to deflect any who tried to slash at him.

Jon slashed straight through two men with his long sword and looked down at it very surprised, how sharp was this thing? What was it made of? It was not all the sword though his speed and agility could not be matched by these lesser trained men. It did not seem fair that they were sent in here to die for the enjoyment of the crowd, who were currently cheering with exuberance for the blood spray as men died.

Jon felt lucky he had such brilliant mentors and sword masters to teach him so well. He hoped Sir Arthur would not be ashamed of his lessons being used in such an abhorrent fashion. Sir Hightower, Sir Dayne and Sir Whent had taught him well, and they had taught him so he could fight for the good of himself and others, not to cut men down like reeds. He wanted to throw down his sword and fight more fairly, because none of these men had such a fine weapon.

Sir Hightower had told him to never let his weapon lay in the dirt, he supposed that meant in the sand too. Right now, he was in too close of combat to wield such a long weapon – it was a disadvantage - he needed to put it somewhere safe. He whistled Belarion, his steed could protect his blade. The stallion came thundering in at it’s riders call. Jon did momentarily wonder how and why, but he had no time to brood over strange circumstance.

The crowd’s reaction to the deaths was deafening, and their faces were painted in jubilation at the blood spray and the smell of Death and fear. The Master smiled, he would be ten times richer than when he entered. He looked at the lustful looks on some of the wealthy women’s faces. Bidding would skyrocket, like the cocks of all the boys who had beheld the princess today.

When Belarion was beside him he stabbed the blade across the top of the saddle like he was sheathing it, terrible for the saddle but the blade slid like a hot knife through butter. _What a weapon!_ Still no time. “Fly.” He sent Belarion off.

His opponents were hesitant to verse him, but they needed to attack, or they would be standing around waiting to die. It would be a terrible death to be killed because you milled around waiting for the Champion to kill you. A man drove forward to cut the lad down, maybe it was all show, he was too young to be as good as they said, and now he was unarmed.

Jon bent to grab two short swords off his dead opponents and spun just in time to block a man with a mace, the sharpened spikes would have impaled him and ended this with a maximum of two strikes. _Stay sharp, be quick_. He ducked low, spun underneath the mace and behind the man and stabbed his swords backward, into his kidneys. It was a silly move but the crowds loved the flamboyance of it and he knew the more gold Wazir made the quicker he would free Jon. On cue the crowd went wild.

The silver princess breathed ‘yes’ under her breath; glad Jon had the skills to defend himself in this horrid place. Her usual gentle heart was hardened against the plight of these men, because they were trying to kill the boy she wanted to win, and **not** die. She knew they had no choice, but she had no choice in caring only that Jon was alive.

Rhaella gazed at her daughter, as Daenerys watched the combat. She had not expected this reaction to the conflict from her gentle girl. As she looked out over the battle she realised, this may not be a crush. Rhaella looked at the boy below, then at her daughter’s total focus. Daenerys did not have a crush on Jon, Daenerys may actually love Jon. How had this happened?

Daenerys had said she met and visited him more often than Rhaella had originally known; was affected by him and his words. Still the queen had thought it was only a crush, but by the way Daenerys’ face contorted in horror and jubilation, this was more than a crush. Not a flight of fancy for something different to what awaited her at home. Daenerys’ features said she loved Jon and if he did not survive this, neither may the girl.

Rhaella recognised what degree of love Daenerys had for Jon, a degree she had once felt herself, and had not been allowed to experience. A love Rhaella had lost years ago. His death had crushed Rhaella, had taken all hope out of the world. She had never and would never truly recover from his loss. Would Daenerys experience the same thing? Rhaella prayed to the Mother, she did not.

It was even more important she found a way to free Jon now, not just for him, but for her daughter too. Aerys may not allow Daenerys to love Jon or even have him, but Rhaella could keep him alive for her. Give her the knowledge he was safe.

Then again, they were all the way across the Narrow Sea in Essos, things could happen that could not be helped, or stopped… Rhaella could ensure they happened. Rhaegar ran away and got married to Lyanna, Daenerys could runaway and marry Jon. Rhaella couldn’t stop that from happening. She would have no idea what happened at all. _Oh well, cannot change it now. What I am to be a grandmother!?_ Rhaella smiled at that thought, little curly haired Hatchlings.

Geron cut low to take a man down at his knees, raising his shield over his head to protect himself from another. All done with minimal effort it seemed, he almost seemed to be moving extra slowly as if the speed and intensity of the battle was not exciting for him. The older warriors would not have been surprised if he yawned.

“That young Barristan, is putting you to shame.”

“That young Barristan is building my legend. See how easily we Barristans perform in combat, it is like the opponents are straw dummies. Such is the greatness of our skill.” If Arthur was going to tease him, he would revel in the glory.

“He is better than you.”

“He is younger. Hence the title, Young Barristan.” Barristan’s feature went serious. “I hope his skill can keep his Dragon Prince alive, unlike mine failed to do.”

“Don’t begrudge yourself that. Much more was happening than you could account for.” Arthur knew Barristan would have given his everything to save Rhaegar, wished he himself had been there, but who would know if that would have changed anything.

“Arthur…” Barristan spoke very low. When Arthur turned, he saw wrath in his brother’s eyes. “Why was the king allowed to do as he did to that boy?”

“He is king.” Arthur spoke quietly, the princess did not need the extra information.

“How long did you know?” Barristan growled low, angry he had not been informed, that he had watched with confusion at King Aerys’ obsession with the boy. This explained why this boy had been kept in the Keep, but not the treatment Barristan saw. Where had he been dragged out of? By the princess’ reaction to the lad, she had **no** idea of who he was.

“Since Rhaegar left for Winterfell.” Arthur answered. That seemed ridiculous because Jon wasn’t even conceived until months later, but Arthur knew Rhaegar could not leave Lyanna as soon as he saw Benjen’s handwriting on the message from Winterfell. Saw the rage in Rhaegar’s eyes and the way he bolted out of the room and the Capital.

The only stop being to Elia, to tell her he could not abide this political crap and would be annulling their marriage. Reassuring her this meant she was left free to follow her heart and he would ensure she got the man she loved. She had enthusiastically agreed, had wondered - Arthur knew - how Rhaegar was going to arrange everything, but happy he was finally freeing them from the politics of their families.

“It was safer that few knew.” Arthur knew Barristan would not have been a problem, but the boy had been too important to let the rumours start and people come looking.

“The king …” Barristan recalled the two latest days of torture Jon had endured.

“I know. He forgave him though. He is most definitely his father’s son.” Arthur smiled at Barristan, hoped he understood. When Barristan smiled back, he knew he did.

“They are very good, aren’t they?” The princess looked to the two Kingsguards. Asking for their professional insights.

“They are indeed princess.” Barristan said to her large eyes. “Young me, is extremely good for his age. He must only be around your age, yet he fights like a veteran.”

“He knows how to use his weapon as a benefit and make their weapons a deficit to his opponents.” Arthur was glad that Jon was not alone out there but had a damned fine partner for this travesty. It was cruel to make the boy relive the battle he had suffered for.

“I don’t think either of us could have come up so quickly from that leap. Not in full plate.” Barristan breathed in awe of the young warrior.

“He wears it like it is padded leather.” Arthur shook his head in amazement. Then both lads were amazing out there.

“Makes a knight proud to be his forebearer.” Barristan grinned. “So glad he is Sir Barristan not Sir Arthur or I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Not at all. If he was Sir Whent you would never hear the end of it.” He smiled.

“He couldn’t be Whent. He has too much hair.” Barristan made fun of their bald brother. He smiled as he looked at the young ‘Barristan’ dressed in his white armour, he did indeed look like a kingsguard, a specific one, which stole Barristan’s smile. “You know which kingsguard he looks like though?” He lent in so Daenerys could not hear, not that her attention left Jon often.

“Yes.” Arthur said soberly. “The Kingslayer.” He whispered.

“No, there is something different. But he sure as hell looks like a Lannister. Except I don’t think Jaime ever laughed so much.”

“Why does he laugh?” Daenerys’ attention was back with the knights.

“I think he is having fun.” Barristan replied.

“Killing people?” Daenerys did not sound happy about the thought.

“Battle is not all about death.” One of Master Wazir’s guards interrupted. “Life is a battle; Battle is life. True followers of War enjoy the dance.” Daenerys turned to watch the battle below her, with a new eye. “The Prince and his Lion dance well.”

“Lion?” Barristan confirmed.

“He is known as the Red Lion. He comes from a small military group, called The Blades. They hail from Westeros.”

“Westeros?” Suddenly the queen’s attention was with the guard.

“Hush Slave! Our Champion is in the middle of a battle.” The guard nodded but said nothing. Queen Rhaella glared at the Master, he was truly skating her rage.

“They are very good.” Barristan said purposefully ignoring the Master. “The Champion does seem well trained and has real talent with a blade. Some of his moves could not be taught.”

“His blade master would be so proud.” Arthur said with the pride he had of Jon’s prowess.

“How couldn’t he be?” Barristan still had plans to interrogate his brother knight about all this, but now was not the time.

Geron slashed up at his attacker, causing a great slash in the man’s abdomen, spilling his intestines between them. He heard the screams of Direwolf’s horse as it tried to get up and avoid the struggling man beneath it. He noted the Usurper was rushing forward to help his prone companion.

Geron saw the princess in the stands cringe towards Jon and with a quick glance he saw the young man facing two men with a third approaching to attack from the rear, so Geron set his shield before him and charged forward to knock the sneaker down as he stared down at the man, he was surprised by his visage. The man had a deep scar across his face disfiguring his mouth, it did not sicken him, but that he was still made to fight made Geron angry.

“Let it end.” The man below him looked desperate.

“Death bless you.” Geron said solemnly as he stabbed his sword down into the chest of his prone opponent, to see a smile cross his face as life left him. Geron had no time to dwell on it, Jon had two men on him and although he had entangled one of their swords with his own and was currently doing what Geron guessed was necessary showmanship for the arena.

Jon had entangled one of his opponents swords with his own and was spinning around the tangle of weapons to slam his back into the man’s chest, pinning the sword, then freed one of his own swords to stab backwards into the man’s abdomen as he used the man’s sword arm and sword to parry his second opponent.

The white knight spun to check his surroundings to open the throat of an infantry man too close to his shield, with its edge. He wondered who sharpened their shield edges? The blood sprayed in a great arc from the man’s throat and splattered into the sand, painting Geron in red. The crowd was on its feet with a cheer for the blood spilt.

The ‘army’ could tell they had no chance against the two warriors and with hand signals three decided the slower harder to wound knight must be taken down first. They knew from past experience the Champion was quick, so took their chance with the mercenary. Geron watched and assessed while the three men circled him. Who would he take out first?

Jon squatted lower as he faced his taller opponent – bracing his feet shoulder width apart to lower his centre of balance. Holding his twin swords out in front of him ready for the attack. The step that told Jon to attack was taken and Jon was quick to duck under his attacker’s swing and cut with his dual blades, then as the man fell he came forward to slash down, sheer luck found the man’s sword in the way to parry the twin swords of the Champion.

Rising to his feet his attacker thrust his blade forward to impale Jon’s chest, but found the two swords raised in defence. Again, the man swung, and Jon spun low under his sword spinning completely around he took a long breath as he came back to face his opponent swords coming together in a cross to slice the man’s throat. Then he simply stepped over the fallen foe and strode on to his next target.

The crowd was on their feet and in full voice. They paid gold to see the Champion do this magnificent combat and never were they disappointed. Usually his combats although bloody were not fatal but there was a fury in their Champion today. The sands would be blessed with even more blood, and the crowd could not get enough.

The crowd did not know the true story of the battle they watched and they hung on every movement. Jon however knew it intimately, even if not from the Mad King’s rantings, from his own dreams all his life. He was very much done with this battle and he was displaying his disdain in his attitude as he made moves to just get it over with, to have it done. He looked around for the next person he needed to incapacitate.

Seeing that Geron was in trouble Jon raced across to his companion leaping at the last moment to drive his sword down on one of the men, slicing into the man’s shoulder and chest, from the stands it looked like for a moment that Jon was flying. A chant rose from the crowd. They sang as one ‘Dragon.’ It was strange for the visiting Dragons but under her breath Daenerys chanted ‘Jon’.

Jon abandoned the sword in the man’s chest; pulling the man’s sword from his scabbard and threw it to hit one of the two infantry men square in the chest, the man melted to his knees. That feat made Jon stop for a moment and stare, he was surprised, astonished even that the move worked. He would have thought it would bounce off. Even Geron looked a bit surprised. Jon was glad it wasn’t just him that found the fact the throw had worked miraculous.

The crowd gasped in awe of their Champion, every combat he did them proud and entertained them. Showed them feats no mortal man should be capable of. They truly loved their Champion, many felt should he ever be killed, they would never attend the Pits again. Why would they it would be proof the Gods had abandoned the sands if they allowed the Dragon to fall?

The Stag used his great size and muscle to lift the horse off his companion and freed the Dog and now they crossed the sand to battle the Champion and his white cloak. Although the Stag strode the Dog was limping badly, wondering how he had been chosen for this battle.

With only one last infantry man remaining, the fight was about to be focused on the main characters. The infantry man thought to get out of the way and rolled away from the slower metal clad knight but got a metal boot in his ribs as he escaped. Which stopped him moving, he had broken ribs now.

The kick seemed to make the slave infuriated and determined for revenge. He spun around to slash at Geron with his sword, Geron maybe slow but he was experienced and dodged the slash. Geron parried his next blow but the man stabbed up into Geron’s left shoulder penetrating between plates and causing blood to flow.

Daenerys gasped in fear for Jon’s ally, she may not know him, but he was helping Jon to not die, so he was of great concern to her presently. Would he be able to fight on or was Jon on his own now? She didn’t even know if it was a mortal wound. By his angry face she guessed he wasn’t about to fall down dead.

Geron swore and slashed at the chest of his opponent only to be parried. The swords of the two men locked but Geron’s was a better blade and his weight in the metal armour greater so he pushed the man back. The man raised his sword to parry Geron’s next slash but lost it arm and all, up to his elbow. The crowd roared in delight. Geron rolled his eyes, he may like – even love – combat but these people were too adoring of blood-sport.

Jon spun around to see the Usurper and the Direwolf were nearly upon them. He had no weapon, then he saw the man on his knees somehow getting to his feet with a sword in his chest. Jon strode forward to the man with the sword in his chest, grabbed the sword and pulled, kicking the man back at the same time with his foot. The man stumbled back onto the spiked walls, impaling himself. He didn’t even feel it, he was already in Death’s embrace.

“The Usurper is mine; you incapacitate the Dog.” Jon yelled his instructions. Geron turned to face the oncoming men, the Stag was thundering forward, full of rage and energy; The Dog limped as fast as he could behind him. “I will not have a Direwolf slain, even a false one.” Geron nodded his understanding.

The Stag charged Jon only to find the Dragon Prince was no longer there, he was running into the centre of the arena, he whistled his steed as he ran dropping the sword in his hand. Daenerys worried Jon was fleeing as he bolted but the audience knew something great was coming from past experience – The Champion had a nerve of Valyrian steel.

Jon met Belarion in the centre of the sands and pulled his sword with its ornate Dragon hilt from the saddle. Belarion then thundered away from his rider straight at the charging Stag, the brute swerved to avoid the horse, but the manoeuvre gave Jon precious seconds to prepare.

Geron strode up to the limping Dog. “Surrender in the name of the King!” The Direwolf went to pull his sword. “Well have it your way Dog. I will deal with you in my king’s own fashion for annoying people.” With that Geron punched him in the nose with his mailed fist. Knocking him unconscious. “Hmmm, I see the appeal.” Geron said as he watched the man melt and sink into the sand. Then the white clad knight lent on his sword as he watched the Stag and the Dragon clash.

He was huge in comparison, but Jon had no fear, as he glared and he was glaring for some reason, true disdain for his opponent. In his enthusiasm foreign sentiments and thoughts went through his head as he sprinted towards the Usurper. _How dare this beast think he can take my love._

The Stag was a tower compared to the black clad Dragon, but the Stag was slow, and the Dragon could fly, add to that he was blood of the Direwolf and was as dexterous and enduring as his symbols. They come together in a great smash of weapons and a great roar from the crowd – a gasp from a princess and a prayer from her mother.

Behind his helm the Stag cringed as he heard his weapon crack from the smash of the black blade, glad the helm hid his features. The lad was smaller, he should have easily moved him, but he stood firm as if he was stone and he managed to move the larger man back. He had heard the Champion was quick and tireless, he had not heard he was this strong.

He wondered for a moment if the lad was even human. He and his companion had dispatched the fodder slaves far quicker than he could comprehend. He had expected more time to formulate a better plan. Then he was shown the Dragon’s speed as he came forward slashing as if he was just twirling the sword, except he was making thrusts. All the Stag could do was hold up his weapon and hope it held as he gathered himself.

The Stag used his superior strength and size to push with a massive shove of his hammer against the Dragon. Lucky Jon had learnt to centre his weight and plant his feet, or he may have ended up on his arse in the sand, but he was pushed back a few metres as the Stag strode behind the hammer.

An overhead swing of the hammer nearly took Jon’s head off as he moved his head slightly to the left, and it missed by hairs. He had to be careful, a stray strike could ring his head like a bell and although obviously the hammer was not his weapon, the Usurper was making good use of it. Jon wished he could meet some of these men off the sands, they were probably good and decent men.

With determination Jon shot forward and slashed low at the man in the antlered helm, the man tried to dodge the slash, for metal to cut into his leather armour but in his tossing of his body he lost the helm and breathed a sigh of relief - the thing was a hinderance. Just the weight of it and it’s feel on his head had been distracting, he could not imagine someone wearing something so stupid.

Jon was a bit surprised to see white blonde hair under the helm, as was Geron who whistled and told the rising Dog ‘what a reversal’ to only punch him in the nose again. Geron took his gauntlet off, he doubted he would be needed to fight from here and it would be kinder to the slave he was punching.

At some point the co-ordinators of the battle must have decided the battle was going too quickly for they sent three more men onto the sands. Geron heard the crowd react and punched the rising Dog before heading off to eliminate the intruders. He headbutted one sending him down. He slashed his sword through one’s abdomen and drove his pommel into the last’s temple.

“Desist!” Geron glared at the Overseer on the other side of the gate. “Before I stride through that gate and impale you! Blades!” He called to his men who stood from their positions in the stands. “If one more man is sent in here, enter the pits and slit the throats of every overseer and guard and then head to the Masters’ Boxes. I have no issue stopping slavery today.”

Men in armour nodded and drew their blades, one even pulled up his spear and tapped an official’s shoulder close to him with the tip. Hasty orders were sent to stop any more slaves being sacrificed to this mockery.

“For War’s sake, how hard can this extraction get?” Geron cursed as he strode back to the Dog, to take his vigil up again. If this dragged on too long, they would send in the Dragonguards, no one would be surviving that. Maybe the Targaryens but few others if any, Kasmira liked to scorch the earth and bathe in blood.

“Shall we enjoy the show?” He said to the Dog as he rose again.

“Yes, just stop punching me.” The man replied to Geron’s surprise and then his laugh.

It truly was Usurper and Dragon now. Jon spun under the Stag’s attacks and did lightning raids in to wear the giant down. The Stag brought thunderous blows down but missed the Dragon who was never where he was expected. Sometimes it was like he turned to smoke, which made sense to the Stag, what with him being a Dragon.

The crowd was treated to the Stag thundering around trying to hit the quick Dragon and the Dragon spinning and slashing making cuts that spilled the Stags blood and made his energy sap from him. Strikes, parries and dodges all spectacularly executed. It did look like a dance being played out in the sand.

It was like his childhood dreams, water rushing around a large man striding towards him and men yelling and dying on all sides. Yet, for him it was silent, there was no sound, not even the clash of steel. He did not wish to be here, he never did, always he thought he wished to be somewhere warm and dry huddled next to his beloved. _I will keep him from you and keep you safe my love._

_ My love_. With that thought Jon looked to the south and saw a silver-hair girl with a worried expression. Taine had been right Princess Daenerys was the type of girl one would wish to impress. As Jon gazed at the beautiful princess, he thought he caught the scent of Honey and Roses.

Jon was confounded by his thoughts. Princess Daenerys was nothing to him, he did not even know her. He scolded himself for betraying a girl he may not recognise by sight but loved by scent and voice. Her sweet voice that equalled her scent. He was betraying his Honey and Roses girl by thinking such words as he looked at the princess.

The Stag was not sure why the Champion suddenly looked hazy, but he took advantage for he knew by the words of others who had face the lad that distraction was rare and blessed with this usually focussed man. The hammer swung and slammed into the Dragon’s left shoulder; it would have shattered it if the slave actually knew how to wield the weapon properly. He could tell by the drop to his arm the shoulder was dislocated, he may survive this yet. Unfortunately, now he had all the Champion’s attention and he was wrathful, his eyes almost burned, and he growled like a true beast.

As she saw Jon’s shoulder wrench, Daenerys felt sick. “No!” she screamed terrified for the harm he had sustained. She understood little of what such an injury meant but she knew it was a handicap that Jon could not afford.

The princess’ exclamation jolted him back to the situation, the pain had gotten him out of the distracted state and she got him back to the don’t stop now state. He wondered absently if Rhaegar was similarly distracted during the real battle. Had the Dragon Prince died for the thoughts of a woman? Which brought his own words of earlier about women being distractions when you are fighting for your life. Still, the Girl of Honey and Roses was worth dying for and Princess Daenerys was very distracting.

_ Focus Jon!_

As he weaved and slashed, spun and dodged the bigger warrior’s war hammer he remembered this. He had dreamt this so many nights during his childhood and adolescence. He remembered rushing water at his feet and around his legs, making the battle more difficult, the press of other men fighting for their lives beside him. He recalled the overwhelming fear that his efforts would not be enough, and **_they_** would not be safe, they would not _escape_. He recalled the need to make this end here to divert his enemy’s focus, the need to sacrifice his life to save others.

He also remembered the feeling of devastation that he would never see _them_ again or hold … his little ‘Lightbringer’. That ‘she’ would be alone. He understood that feeling now, as he hadn’t as a child – he feared he would never see the Girl of Honey and Roses ever, and that thought was paralysing. Which it couldn’t be, otherwise it would be prophecy.

_ This must end here. And now. I must do what is necessary to end this_. The difference was in his dreams he always gave up to distract his enemies push, felt crushing in his chest and head. Not this time this time the Usurper would fall, because he was not sacrificing his life and love, he would live and fight for them with every breath and every swing of his arm and every drop of his blood. His beating heart would never stop until he was reunited with his sweet-smelling girl.

The Stag knew exactly where Jon was for a moment as the flat of his blade slammed into the man’s back, making him arch in pain and Jon spun around in front of him to move his sword up into the Usurper’s chin. It would have been the death blow if it had been with the blade, but it was the large blue pommel stone. The pain and shock went right up his face and through his brain, causing him to hit his knees. He was exhausted and could not make his legs move under him. The Stag waited for the end.

No one was quite sure how he managed it, perhaps in the end he was just younger and had more endurance, but even with his dislocated shoulder Jon managed to find the Usurper on his knees below his sword. He had won.

The Stag found himself at the feet of the Champion, exhausted and heaving for breath, he felt no shame for his lost or he guessed the death that was coming for him, he had fought the Champion and now a better warrior would send him to his God. The iconic antlered helm lay in the sands where it had fallen from his head. In an ironic twist his pale almost white blonde hair shone in the sun of Meereen.

Jon could have laughed as he stared down huffing with the exertion of the battle when he realised the slave playing the Usurper was more of the Dragon Prince’s colouring than himself, and he more of Lord Baratheon’s. However, Jon had not the build of the Storm Lord, which was probably why he was cast as the Dragon Prince.

The crowd was chanting and screaming. Chanting for death to his bested foe. Yet, Jon stopped his sword only millimetres from the Usurper’s throat. Even with the foreign thoughts he had experienced in this battle, now the antlers were gone Jon felt none of the wrath or before. He was loath to take the man’s life for some stupid dramatics to endear a guest who was most likely more offended than honoured.

The Champion looked to his Master’s Box. Master Wazir smiled and walked to the front of it and spread his hands wide as if asking what he should command. The crowd wanted more death and blood and Master Wazir smiled and nodded then thrust out his hands and pointed his thumbs down to indicate what Jon should do. His smile faded as the minutes passed and Jon’s blade did not move.

Jon’s eyes were not on Master Wazir or his hands, but on a kindly faced queen who had tended his cuts when her husband was cruel. She looked to be drowning in her emotions, but his eyes stayed on her and waited for her to make contact with him. Queen Rhaella looked up and she did stare at him, gladly he noted she was not angry at him for playing his part in this travesty. She smiled and she stood to walk up to beside the Master.

Rhaella heard the calls for death, she hated them. This mockery was unforgivable, and it tore at her to watch Jon fight a battle his father had lost. She pulled herself together because she was a queen and looked to her mostly safe grandson. He stood sword to the other man’s throat, urged by the crowd and their host to slay him, but he was just staring at her.

She understood what her grandson was asking her. She stood and walked regally to the front of the box and looked disdainfully at the crowd and the arena, then she placed her hand on her heart and gave a short nod. She knew it was not the gesture required, but this battle, this memory belonged to her and Jon, they had lost everything last time it happened so as it was theirs, it was their gesture too.

The queen indicated for Jon to end his opponents suffering and send him to his God. Finally given the command by the only queen he had even known, Jon turned to his opponent.

“Your blood and your fury have blessed the sands this day,” Jon spoke quietly for this message was not for the crowd, for those who did not bleed on the sands did not understand. “Go with the blessings of your Gods for you have served them well.” The fair man smiled, for Jon no longer saw the Usurper or a Stag, only a fellow slave ready to be free.

Jon plunged his sword blade down into the man’s chest, through his beating heart and into his heaving lungs, the death was quick and as much as it probably looked spectacular for the crowd’s blood thirst, it was not for them. War and Battle would look upon this and welcome their follower home, honour him as he had honoured them.

As the last breath left the gladiator’s lungs, Jon wept a single tear. “Lyanna.” He whispered low. Jon had no idea where the name came from, but he felt it was part of the cryptic of this battle, he also felt a great sadness at its speaking.

Geron heard the name and he frowned at its sound. He knew the lady as little as Jon did, though he guessed he had heard her story at least, he doubted Jon had. Still he saw the pain it brought to the young man before him and hoped one day Jon would know the story of this battle and its necessity, of the prince and his wolf-maid and the love they were said to have for each other and the sacrifice they made for Jon.

The crowd roared in jubilation, like a thunderclap. The announcer stood to declare the end of the combat.

“House Targaryen has defeated House Baratheon. The Dragon Prince has slain the Stag!”

Although he felt uncomfortable with the wording of the announcement Jon raised his sword in the air, enjoying a victory for the first time. That quickly changed when the crowd started to chant ‘Targaryen’ for him. Jon almost dropped the sword as the chant became a thunderous roar and people stood on their seats, arms raised to salute him.

“How ironic.” Geron drawled as he came forward arm outstretched. Jon looked at the arm wondering what Geron expected, he had only one good arm and it was holding his sword. He knew when Geron took his left hand and placed a gauntleted hand against his chest, then pulled his left shoulder back into alignment. Jon grunted – wanted to yell – but kept his head for the _show_.

“They need to stop that.” Jon turned to Geron and watched as the white clad man punched the rising ‘Stark’ almost without thought to send him again into unconsciousness. “There are true Targaryens present. It is an insult to them, to chant that for me.”

“They don’t seem insulted.” Geron replied calmly, raising his head to look at the box containing the mentioned Targaryen ladies.

Jon looked up to see the queen looked relieved and somewhat… was that proud? Did Queen Rhaella look proud of him? Rhaella was relieved that Jon had survived, and she was proud of his skills and his triumph, glad he had not followed Rhaegar’s fate in the original battle.

Jon looked at Arthur and saw definite pride on his features. Jon was glad, he knew Rhaegar had been Arthur’s best friend and he would hate for Arthur to be angry at him for any insult he felt this mockery had been for his friend.

Then he chanced a quick glance at the princess, she seemed jubilant. Probably happy her House had triumphed in this version. He found he enjoyed his victory a little more knowing it had caused the princess to appear so very joyous.

Then he mentally cuffed himself. He should not care what the princess thought as exquisite as she was, he had a different girl to … he wanted to make another girl joyous, wherever she was, smelling exquisite herself. His Girl of Honey and Roses, he had to believe she was just as lovely as the princess, if that were possible. Then he decided it had to be possible but only the princess could possibly be as lovely as the girl he missed visiting him so very much.

Jon was awoken from his thoughts of beautiful girls by a new chant, one calling for the death of the last living opponent, the ‘Wolf’. Great Master Wazir moved to the front of the box beside the princess, who quickly stepped back away from the man.

“Sword and Dragon of Winter you have brought glory to my house and you have honoured my guests as the Dragon Prince, but the crowd demands the deaths of all who oppose you! Slay the Dog!” He smiled at the crowd as they roared for more blood.

“The crowd will be disappointed! If King Aerys could pardon Lord Stark, then I will not be lower than the Mad King. The **Direwolf** will live. If the crowd wishes this man dead, they must go through me to have that wish! I will not have even a false Stark slain in my presence!” The steel in Jon’s eye was as hard as the sword in his hand. The crowd quietened for a moment then chanted, ‘Dragon, Dragon, Dragon!’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this chapter was to go to just before Jon and Dany meet face to face.  
That would have made it even longer, so I have cut it at the end of the battle and there will be a shorter chapter next with all the after the win and preparing for the meeting.


	19. The Spoils of Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has won the Battle of the Trident, now he must prepare for his next battle, Princess Daenerys.  
Events after the combat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found this chapter very long and I had to split it and add a Westeros interlude.  
So shorter than expected. And meeting is coming.

Jon knew the drill, he walked around the arena giving the crowd a chance to ‘admire’ their Champion, as the arena guards dragged the corpses off the sands. He took the opportunity as he circumnavigated the arena to collect his cloak and steed. Geron and his own steed walked beside him in the victory laps. Then Geron walked beside him to the centre of the sands for a final bow before they walked off the sands.

Every revolution Jon felt like a heel as he glanced up at his Master’s Box, not to see Wazir but to catch a glimpse of the exquisite princess, she was at the front of the box for the first two then she was gone. She did not look angry about the mockery of her brother’s death but looked … Was she happy?

That second turn she spun away as he passed, as if something was happening in the box she stood in but as she spun a piece of blue fabric tore on some catch and the wind blew it into the air, Jon watch the gossamer fabric float before him and land over the Dragon etched on his chest. He picked it off to look at it.

“Have you caught a lady’s favour my prince?” Geron asked as Jon stared down at the fabric.

“Doubtful.” Jon said thinking of whom it belonged to. He walked on, to continue his victory laps. Still feeling a tool as he balled the fabric in his fist, he had tsked over Taine and his adoration of the same girl. Jon was not being loyal to the girl he had thought of for the last six months. He should not forget her because of a pretty girl. Then he supposed if he felt badly, he had not forgotten her.

“That was an exciting afternoon’s exercise. We should fight side by side more often.” The golden man smiled.

“I am a slave fighter remember?” Jon said sombrely.

“No, you are a prince remember?” Geron knew as much as he called Jon ‘king’, he was only a prince until he was returned to the king to be coronated as his grandson and heir.

“Not anymore Geron. I am a slave again.”

“No slave has such a fine sword or such a fine steed as your Belarion. They belong to a true prince.” Geron indicated the fine items only a prince could possess.

“They probably actually do.” Jon had to smile at Geron’s enthusiasm. “I am confident that once we step off this sand the sword and steed will be taken off me and returned to their true owner.”

“Don’t let them take them.” Geron said with gusto. He also knew the steed and the sword were currently with their true owner. It had not been easy to substitute the crappy versions the overseers had sourced with the mount and sword, King Aerion had sent for his grandson, Duncan. Geron hated that name, Jon was not a Duncan, his grace would see that too as soon as he met his grandson.

“I have no choice. Once I leave the sand, I am a slave, on the sand I may rule as Champion, but off it I am nothing.”

“You can never be nothing my king.”

“Thank you, Geron but the fact remains. Off the sand I have no power.”

“Then don’t step off the sands.” Geron spoke with the confidence only a free born could have.

Jon stopped walking to stare at the mercenary, what a concept: Stay on the sands and reign supreme. Stupid as it sounded, part of Jon liked the idea. “I wish that it were possible.”

“It is. I will fight beside you and see all these slaves …” Geron swung his hand around the arena seating, “… they may just rise up for you too.” Jon looked at the thousands of slaves still chanting for him. “You have this ability to inspire loyalty Jon. Men will sacrifice themselves for men like you, you just have to ask them.”

“…they would follow, yes they would march from all the kingdoms. March to overthrow him, march by the thousands, to throw him down and raise me up …” Jon whispered remembering the Mad King’s rambling rant.

“My king?” Geron was unsure where Jon was venturing with his words.

“Someone told me once that I was a danger to his position. I disbelieved someone as lowly as me could be a challenge to an exalted man’s power. You may have just explained his fear to me.”

“So, he should fear your destiny. Your fate is not on these sands my king, your fate lies far from here, where great lords will bend their knees as you enter. The Sword seeks the Hand; The Crown seeks the Head; and the Throne her True King seeks.”

“Not my hand or head.” Jon found this man amusing, but in a couple of steps they would part ways and that knowledge saddened him.

After Jon’s bloody triumph in the arena. Rhaella, Daenerys and their two knights listened as the crowd chanted for Jon. His victory was spectacular, but the emotion he incited in the people who watched him was inspiring. Daenerys was so happy that he survived she almost climbed out of the Great Master’s Box to run and embrace him, she caught herself as she leaned heavily on her hands and raised herself up with her shoulders. Sir Arthur must have worried she would vault out because he placed a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder.

After all the emotion of the day and the anxiety of the battle it would be expected that the queen would be emotionally and mentally drained, which she was. She however had not survived years of marriage to a madman without having steel in her spine and an inferno in her soul. As the Great Master and his family rejoiced at the triumph of their Champion and their house, Rhaella fashioned within her mind a weapon to cut them off at the knees. So, she took the opportunity now in their weakened state of jubilation to make her first thrust. She steadied her emotions and set her expression to imperious distaste.

“Great Master, you and I have matters to discuss.” Her voice was cold enough to freeze the man in place.

“Great lady, do you not wish to partake in the celebrations of today’s victory?”

“Firstly, I am a queen; I tire of your insult of calling me lady.” She snapped. “Secondly, no. I no longer wish to meet your Champion as arranged for at this point in festivities. I do not wish to be near **you**.”

“My… Your grace, I have already arranged for my Champion to be cleaned up for his private audience with your daughter as arranged.” His voice was nervous. Daenerys’ eyes widened at his words, Jon was being cleaned up for a private audience with her, what had her mother arranged? She turned to gaze at the perfect boy, young man. Oh, what was about to be blessed upon her? “His harp is ready to bring a tear to her eye with his talent.” Daenerys exhaled her held breath. Though was slightly disappointed, it was so innocent.

“Yes. Great Master that is the least you can do after the revelations and insults of today.” No warmth was present in the queen’s tone. “Shall we depart this disgusting place?” She stood and swept out of the box like a storm with her daughter and knights behind.

To Jon’s surprise Geron continued to trail along next to him as they walked the labyrinth of tunnels under the arena. The white clad knight had taken the Targaryen cloak and the ‘Prince’s’ sword, attaching them to the black stallion’s saddle. He had then held his hand out to Jon as to take the steed’s reins.

“May we meet again Belarion.” Jon said to the stallion, “Go with Geron.”

“I will keep him for you.” Geron assured the black clad man as he took the reins and refused point blank to hand them over to any overseer, even upon request. Some thought to press it and were welcomed by the mercenary drawing his still blood sheathed sword. “My king does not require your services. I will take charge of his needs now. Be off with you.”

Jon’s pace slowed as he approached the corpse of a slave killed on the sands. The once tall, dark haired handsome Westerosi man, Taine, was only a broken form and a torn apart face. Jon had felt this would be his cellmate’s fate, but it still saddened him to see his companion in such a state, such a waste of a life.

He headed back towards his interim cell, usually in the chaos after an event it took several hours for the overseers to transport him back to his cell in the Great Master’s pyramid. He didn’t really mind it was strangely more peaceful awaiting transport as the usual ‘women’ fans did not lower themselves to descending into the actual pits. Sometimes if the Great Master had special guests Jon would be trotted out after the combat to meet them and have the ladies flutter eyelashes at him or scan him far too closely for his liking. He guessed the only reason he had not been ‘presented’ to the Targaryen ladies was the insult of the combat and that they already knew who he was, so did not wish to meet the Champion for either of those reasons.

“Wrong way, Dragon.” An overseer barked at him.

Perhaps he was wrong, but he had seen Queen Rhaella leave in a hurry. Had seen her take her guards and beautiful daughter with her. _Stop it Jon! She is a princess and you have a Girl of Honey and Roses to think about._ Except he wasn’t sure he did, was she waiting somewhere for his return, most likely not. Most likely betrothed to some stupid fool who didn’t deserve her.

“What is with this ‘Dragon’ thing, I keep telling you all I’m more a Direwolf than a Dragon.”

“Why my king can you not be both?” Geron asked.

“How am I a Dragon in anyway?” Jon was mystified by this obsession people had with aligning him with Dragons. He understood that apparently he had some brand or birthmark on his right shoulder that had started it all, but he didn’t remember receiving. Still nothing else about him gave credence to the Meereenese need to label him with it.

“Well-l.” Geron paused with a raised eyebrow looking him up and down. Jon looked at his armour emblazoned with the Targaryen three headed red Dragon, rolled his eyes and threw his head back in an annoyed plea to the Gods to deliver him from this idiocy. “You did just win the Battle of the Trident, Dragon Prince.”

“I am not the Dragon Prince. The Dragon Prince was Rhaegar Targaryen and he lost the battle. I should know his insane father tortured me about it my entire life.” This whole situation was beginning to make Jon’s usual cool demeanour change as his blood started to boil.

“Are we getting hot under the collar my king?” Geron was finding this amusing, his voice could not hide it. Though with many people mocking caused an escalation of anger, in Jon it defused it. He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Maybe Sir Geron you are correct. Maybe I have a drop of Dragon in me and it was just getting the better of my cool Direwolf mind. I should get the armour off before I totally lose my cool.”

“Your master probably doesn’t want you sprouting wings and flying off.” Geron laughed.

“How hard do you think I need concentrate for that?” Jon smiled widely. “Still if I don’t wish to start breathing fire, I had better get the armour off and cool my mind.”

“We are Westerosi, my king. You are born of the frozen North. We both know Dragon’s don’t only come in the fire variety.” These was no hilarity in his voice.

“Actually Geron, I was born in Dorne and never been further north than King’s Landing. I am no Northerner.”

“Is that so Jon **Snow**?” Geron made a fair point.

“I can’t explain that.” Jon said tiredly. Then a thought came forward in his mind. “How do you know my name is Snow?”

Geron’s features split in a broad smile. “You just confirmed it.” Jon didn’t like the answer and his face said so, mainly because it was no real answer. “No, I already knew before volunteering to aid you today. I am Westerosi remember? I know you are blood of The North. I know your family petition the Mad King every year for your release and safe passage to them. I know you have a Direwolf waiting for you in Westeros, given as a gift to you by your family, snuck in for you by the queen. I probably know more of the truth of you, than you do.” Jon wanted to bombard Geron with questions.

“Why aren’t you moving slave!?” The overseer yelled, loosening his whip from his belt. Jon looked at him annoyed but followed knowing the man would never actually whip him for fear of his own skin. Geron however did not have that knowledge and his eyes went cold and he pulled his sword from his scabbard.

“You dare threaten Ry… Jon Targaryen.” His voice held menace enough to turn the overseer to stone staring at him and then at Jon.

“Dragon?” The overseer’s voice was small, and he seemed to be asking Jon to save him from the mercenary.

“It’s Jon Snow, and he actually wouldn’t dare.” Jon’s voice was calm and cooling. He patted the overseer’s arm to reassure him and placed his other hand on Geron’s wrist, indicating for him to put his sword away. “How about you take care of Balerion for me, I may need a fast horse later to escape some over-friendly ladies.” An infectious smile spread across his face.

“Of course, my Lord.” Geron put his sword away but did not lower his eyes from the overseer, he wanted the man to understand only because it was Jon’s will, did the man live. Reluctantly he parted with the dark-haired man.

Arthur walked behind his queen and princess, ensuring the royals he could protect were protected. He chanced a quick sideways glance at Barristan, that was going to be an intense conversation. Sooner or later this was all bound to be revealed but how much?

Arthur thought of another princess for a moment, one trapped across the Narrow Sea. Wondered how Elia was fairing alone with Aerys. Elia was as much a victim as Jon was in this mess of House Targaryen – okay maybe not as much as Jon, she did bear some burden of fault. She had hopes of escaping the Dragons and having peace, but nothing had gone as Rhaegar had planned.

Those plans failed because Rhaegar had never suspected that Robert maybe a Baratheon, but that his Dragon blood had made him as prone to madness as King Aerys. A different madness, but still madness. Lyanna had seen it, had told Arthur of her fear of it for Rhaegar when he went to face Robert. She had wept for Cersei Lannister when she heard she was to replace herself as Robert’s wife. Lyanna had thanked the Northern Gods when Robert was captured in King’s Landing and Cersei was saved from him.

> _ He is mad Arthur, he is cruel and mad. No woman who refuses him is safe from his fury._

But Elia. When Rhaegar died and Elia was not free she had wept for weeks, but that may be because soon after Jaime Lannister attempted to assassinate Aerys and lost his head, making Aerys shut in his family. To save herself and her children, it had been Elia who told Aerys where to find Lyanna. He knew she bore great guilt that Jon’s life was tortured because of her self-preservation.

Arthur had simply left his House’s words behind, never would he be sworn to House Martell. He did not hate Elia, for he knew it was her brothers that cursed her and her children. Her brothers that took her son from his cradle in the night and replaced him with another, only telling her when she voiced a concern for a change in her babe days after.

Arthur bore his own shame for Elia’s pain, for she had no idea there had been two. Rhaegar had not condoned the loyalists taking ‘Aegon’ into hiding, but the child had burned hot, even as he grew he had a terror of a temper. However, the strangest salve was, to calm him all you needed to do was talk about Jon and Rhaegar and Elia’s first-born son would become placid – their only actual child.

Thinking of the mess of the Targaryen lineage made Arthur wonder if Gerold knew where they were. If he had followed instruction and stayed in Dorne or broken them and went to King’s Landing. Arthur had told him to refuse Aerys command and rescind his agreement, return to Dorne and he had sulkily got on his horse and ridden home. Arthur wondered if Gerold had turned around once he left for Essos.

Darkstar had little love of Elia, had wanted Lyanna to be his mother, but he was fiercely protective of her. Maybe his love of his true family would calm his tempest like talk of Jon calmed him. Or Darkstar would just burn the world and laugh. He wasn’t heartless, he was just apathetic to a world that caused such a fucked-up family situation. Sometimes Arthur was glad that Elia had not had to weather that Dragon.

Well, if Darkstar had ignored Arthur and returned to King’s Landing, then he was Aerys problem for adding kindling to that bonfire. Aerys own fault for stealing the babe from its mother’s arms when she was so ill, she didn’t know she had even given birth to two sons instead of one. Aerys should have let her keep one. And made sure Doran and Oberyn did not take that one away.

> “Arthur, what are you doing with my son?”
> 
> “Rhaegar I…”
> 
> “He is a kingsguard, and he is following the command of his king.” Aerys had glowered from behind them. As he approached to look the child over, there it was on his left shoulder, a dragon and an orb, he was not the one. Not the one, but Rhaegar’s. “Take him away. I will keep one safe from these monsters we call my lords.”
> 
> “Father.” Arthur saw Aerys flinch at Rhaegar’s word.
> 
> “I have seen the other, it is the Myrish man’s.” Rhaegar’s head dropped. “Pretend and I won’t kill them all as traitors. You need a better wife. I liked the nerve of that girl of Rickard Stark’s who wore armour.”
> 
> “Stay away from Lyanna.” Rhaegar growled at his father, which surprised Arthur, Rhaegar did not lose his cool, but then Lyanna had ignited a flame in him, Rhaegar was in-love. Tragic love but love. For now, Arthur must save the only trueborn child Rhaegar would even possibly have.

“Sir Dayne, are you alright?” The princess asked concerned for the expression he wore. Arthur smiled, the princess deserved a husband without a question mark over his head about whether he was actually who he thought he was. Her heart was so gentle and kind, she deserved to have the one prince everyone who knew of him, knew exactly who he was. Jon was Rhaegar’s son and there was no question to who his parents were. Elia had so many hidden and pretend Aegons she might need to sew their names onto their feet or chests.

“Of course. We better have those girls make you even more perfect for the Black Cell Boy.” She blushed and nodded. At least Jon and Daenerys were not complicated, they just loved the simple existence of the other, even if they didn’t know for certain who the other was, what they knew they loved.

* * *

Jon was taken to be bathed, alone in a steaming giant tub attended by four very giggly girl slaves who happily scrubbed all the grim, sand and blood off him. They tenderly attended to his wounds and even washed his hair and trimmed it and his beard, he didn’t let them shave him or cut too much off his hair. They then dried his hair as he insisted on drying himself, **himself**.

They brought out a fine set of clothes, noble-type garments. He was starting to get concerned with all the fussing. However even in this Jon managed to show his defiant streak, while the girls watched horrified he took the scissors they used to cut his dark curls to cut the sleeves off his new black doublet – it was a very well made garment so he figured it wouldn’t harm it in the long term.

The girls chortled about how the black trousers and white long-sleeved shirt did in fact look more handsome with the newly sleeveless doublet – really a vest now. He had to admire the quality of the clothes; he’d never wore such fine garments; especially the boots. Jon made himself a promise, he’d be keeping the boots.

Still the degree of preening was a bit of a worry. Jon was aware that pit fighters were not only used to fight but also to fulfil other services to ‘appreciative’ female fans, who paid their masters for the ‘privilege’ of spending time with the fighters. The Great Master was sorely mistaken if he thought Jon would ‘perform’ that service for his purse.

Jon accompanied the seneschal along the corridors and was pleasantly surprised when around one corner he was met by Geron still wearing his Sir Barristan costume.

“You truly are looking like a prince, my king.” Geron smiled and assessed Jon’s appearance approvingly. “Where are we headed?”

“**We** don’t know. It does cause me apprehension that this is the required costume though.” Jon answered lightly.

“Not a costume, my king. A true representation of your station shown in cloth.”

“Geron could you possibly stop with the ‘My King’ thing, it is a false statement of my status.”

“Of course, as you wish my prince.”

“Geron how is that better or different even?” Jon laughed; he was really starting to like this man.

“There is a great difference between a king and a prince, my prince.” Geron stated matter-of-factly. “Would you like me to explain?”

“No. How about we be honest and stop calling me either.”

“Would that really be honest?”

“Yes, it would, because I am neither.”

“So, you say Jon. Not to be rude to you but what would you know about it? Honestly.” Geron’s voice was solemn. “You have been locked in a cell of one type or another, struggling to survive and remain sane your entire life. What do you actually know of the world outside your bars? Only what is told to you. What if your teachers lied to you?”

“Did they?” He asked with a note of uncertainity.

“For the most part probably not. Until you hear another person’s version you will never know for certain.” Geron’s eyes started to shine as he smiled. “Now however is not the time for all this intrigue. Now is the time to discover what our next adventure is to be.” He winked at Jon and sped his pace to bring him in front of the seneschal, stopping abruptly to block the man’s path. “Where are you leading my lord, slave?” He sounded every bit a superior nobleman.

“The Champion has a private audience with our honoured guest Princess Daenerys ‘Stormborn’ of House Targaryen.” Jon was stunned, so stunned he stopped moving. An audience with the girl in the Master’s Box today, he couldn’t even contemplate that concept.

Geron raised an eyebrow and a mischievous smile played on his lips. “Lucky you.” He said staring at Jon. “A private audience with a gloriously attractive princess. I wonder what the queen has paid for you to do … with her daughter.” Jon couldn’t imagine the queen he had known paying anything for him to be doing with her daughter, he swallowed hard and felt terribly low. Strangely the thought came to him, what would the Girl of Honey and Roses think of him?

“She has paid nothing.” The Senechal snapped. “The Master has offered freely the service.”

Geron frowned. “Freely. Probably means not fun.” Jon breathed more easily at the thought.

“The Champion will show her one of his other skills” The man smiled in a self-satisfied way, turning to Jon he continued. “You will be playing the harp for her enjoyment. Nothing more.” Jon smiled at the simplicity and innocence of the task.

“Then why did he have to look so pretty?”

“As not to offend her eyes and nose. Also …” The seneschal crouched a little as he paused making the two young men lean in to hear his whispered words. “...the master offended the Lady Rhaella greatly with the theme of the mock battle today.”

“Having been in that mock battle today, it wasn’t very ‘mock’ from where The Champion and I stood. You house slaves and Masters should try getting a bit of blood on you, might cause you to not love the fighting pits so much.”

“I told you it was offensive to House Targaryen.” Jon stated standing back.

“We must not keep the princess waiting Champion. You, are not required or invited.” He spoke directly to Geron.

“Regardless I will stand guard outside for my prince’s protection.” The seneschal just glared at the Golden man but did not dare oppose him.

It only took them a few minutes to get to the doors of the rooms where apparently the princess waited to be entertained by Jon’s skill with a harp. The eunuchs opened the doors and Jon walked in hoping he did not look as nervous as he felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Westeros. Aerys is waiting, and regretting triggering Darkstar.


	20. A Waiting Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Westeros.  
Aerys really does not like House Martell and we gain insight into 'my' Darkstar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember this is non-canon and I have changed some characters majorly - read Darkstar in this.  
Also two chapters so we get to Jonerys sooner.

Aerys had word Rhaella had found Jon, his day had started well with good news, he felt nothing could bring him down. He was wrong because Varys brought him a list of petitioners for the day and Princess Elia’s brothers were on it.

“The Princess will be accompanying them.” Varys said softly.

The audience with the Martells was private, it had to be, what if someone went crazy? What if someone other than Aerys went crazy? He watched the princes walk in and the princess behind them, with her shadow. When Sir Dayne said he would protect Elia he had not hesitated to become her shadow, she was rarely without him.

The procession irked Aerys. Why were those two pompous arses walking ahead of their sister? She had seniority. He gazed at Sir Gerold as he walked head up and with no glimpse of fear. Maybe Rhaegar had been right. Maybe he had balled his fists and succeeded at giving Elia one saving grace.

Aerys did not make the audience or discussion easy. Doran thought now she was free, that Rhaenys could be wed to his son Prince Quintin. Aerys said over Doran’s daughter Arianne’s dead body, he was not giving Dorne anymore power or relation to his throne. Oberyn pushed like the little punk who never grew up that he was, and Aerys instantly dissolved Viserys’ betrothal to Princess Arianne.

Though Doran already had plans to wed her to Aegon the Black, he pulled his brother into line quickly. They were trying to gain more hold on the throne not to lose it all. The king refused to even accept the apology that would see Viserys marry Arianne. No, Viserys would find another bride; to Doran’s distaste he started speaking of the beauty of the daughter of House Tyrell. The message was heard by Doran: I will take your advantage and give it to your enemies.

Worse still, Aerys mumbled about why not change all the betrothals. He started talking about Lord Robb Stark and mentioned but quickly disregarded Lord Theon Greyjoy for Daenerys. There were other names, but the mention of Direwolf blood adding its strength to the Dragon House, stopped all words from the Martells.

“Where would the most accessible Direwolf son be?” Aerys mused to the air to scare the Martells.

“Meereen, I hear.” Sir Gerold Dayne said quickly. “Isn’t that where our beautiful queen and exquisite princess are presently?” Normally Gerold would not use the word exquisite for a girl, but Jon had decided on it. Gerold gazed out the window behind the king. _When did I start knowing what he was thinking? Must be the Blood._

“Yes, they are.” Aerys said with excitement. “I never even thought about that one. You know I missed such an opportunity. I should have kept him and married Daenerys off to him instead.”

“You declared Princess Daenerys would marry my nephew, Prince Aegon.” Oberyn reminded the king.

Aerys grinned down at the Dornish prince. “I said, and I quote. My daughter, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, will marry Aegon Targaryen, to be the Sixth of his Name. Crown Prince Rhaegar’s son and heir.”

“Exactly.” Oberyn glared at the madman.

“Would you prefer I specified him by the name he called himself?” Aerys grinned down at the Dornishman. “Jon Snow. Even if he calls himself Jon, I know he is Aegon, so you see…” Aerys paused. “You misinterpreted of whom I spoke.”

“Well, at least that is what he is likely to say, even if it is a lie.” Gerold shrugged.

“You are sworn to House Martell. Do not help him.” Oberyn hissed.

“No, I am sworn to Princess Elia, to protect her like she was my own mother.” Gerold smiled happily.

“House Dayne’s words are ‘Sworn to Martell’.” The Red Viper snapped.

“Maybe your wife Lady Cersei is right. I could be adopted; I am not a Dayne.” Gerold saw Aerys stiffen. “Or it could just be I dislike you. Therefore, give no fucks about helping you.”

“**My** point, do not test me, the throne is still mine while I live. I can take all your power away. Don’t make me like the Direwolf over the Sun and Spear. As to Rhaenys. She chooses her husband not you.”

“Thank you.” Elia spoke before her brothers.

Aerys whole demeanour changed. “How does her search go?”

“She has found no one yet, she sent invitations to the Great Houses, and many Dornish Houses.” Oberyn smiled too quickly for Aerys liking.

“I see.” Aerys growled.

“She has only had one reply she liked, though many replies.”

“Who was that?” Oberyn grinned. Even if House Martell was on the out with Aerys his own words could tie the throne more to Dorne.

“A young man, presently in the capital.” Elia was loath to name the young lord. “She only invited him because he was already here, and she was disappointed with the other Lords who she met.”

“Which House does he hail from?” Doran wondered why Elia looked so hesitant.

“A good and strong House with much wealth and power.”

Aerys stared at his good-daughter, what was her problem? Then because he was mad not stupid, he understood. “What region of The Reach is his House in?” Both the Dornish princes glared at their sister.

“House… It is funny, you were just speaking of Houses in The Reach and Lady Margery Tyrell.”

“Oh, my granddaughter likes Willas Tyrell’s reply.” It was not that Aerys was more cluey; he had just had an audience with the young lord yesterday. He liked him, well as much as one can like a sensible and intelligent lord who was as treacherous as the rest of them. Much smarter than his father Lord Mace. Less caustic than his grandmother, Lady Olenna. “I never knew how much I could adore that girl.” He was beginning to really adore her, why had he not gotten to know her earlier? _Shut up, Rickard._ He hated it when Rickard gave him the ‘I told you so’ look.

“Yes.” She sighed heavily, not that she had a problem with it all, for she had experienced Rhaenys’ frustration at all these lords, she was telling her mother King Aerys’ cloistering had saved her from previously. She just knew her brothers would be lecturing her and Rhaenys about it for hours.

“We must discuss this.” Oberyn pulled on Elia’s arm.

“I would not be touching the woman I am protecting like my own mother like that, Viper.” Gerold half drew his sword.

“Sir Hightower, please escort my good-daughter to my granddaughter and bring both of them to my solar as I wish to discuss this with them.” He waved his hand at Elia. “I must speak with Lord Dayne, could you ensure his warning is upheld.”

“Of course.” Sir Gerold Hightower went to present his arm to the princess and escort her away, her brothers followed. Once the doors were closed and Aerys threatened Varys with tarring and boiling if he didn’t clear out his ‘little birds’ until this meeting was done. Aerys stared down at the relaxed knight.

> “Arthur, what are you doing with my son?”
> 
> “Rhaegar I…”
> 
> “He is a kingsguard, and he is following the command of his king.” Aerys had glowered from behind them. As he approached to look the child over, there it was on his left shoulder, a dragon and an orb, he was not the one. Not the one, but Rhaegar’s. “Take him away. I will keep one safe from these monsters we call my lords.”
> 
> “Father.” Aerys flinched at Rhaegar’s word. The child disproved that title, he was no more Rhaegar’s father than Rhaegar was that whelp beside Elia or his little dark daughter’s.
> 
> “I have seen the other, it is the Myrish man’s.” Rhaegar’s head dropped. “Pretend and I won’t kill them all as traitors. You need a better wife. I liked the nerve of that girl of Rickard Stark’s who wore armour.”
> 
> “Stay away from Lyanna.” Rhaegar growled at his father, Aerys was not surprised, he had seen Rhaegar’s reaction to the Stark girl. The duty-bound prince had fallen in love and Aerys was sure his father would let him have it. Aerys however had proof now that he wasn’t Rhaegar’s father and a fear came upon him. If Aerion ever discovered… If Rhaegar ever discovered… He needed the babe with the Dragon, Orb and Sword on its right shoulder, and he needed it soon. Aerys would let Rhaegar have his Wolf-girl, so he could have his ultimate Dragon King.

There was ten minutes of silence, and no movement. “Well, great talk. Catch up later?” Gerold bowed slightly and turned.

“What do you prefer to be called?” Gerold turned back at the king’s words.

“Darkstar.”

“Why?”

“Then I don’t have to choose between Aegon and Aemon, or some other Targaryen name. Frees Aegon up for Jon, though I doubt he wants it.”

“Why are you so loyal to people you have never known?”

“Because they are family and Sir Arthur taught me to be like my father, not the rest of the realm.”

“Protect her like she was my own mother?” Aerys gazed steadily at the young man, perhaps it was Rickard staring out talking to the knight.

“Why did you give me this detail?”

“It amused me.” It had; the thought Elia’s one true prince so close but never knowing who he was. The ability to sweep the rug from beneath her with that truth.

“I wish Lady Lyanna had been my mother, but she wasn’t.” Gerold saw the confusion. “You know more than people think your grace, but you don’t know everything. I do not even try to understand how everything is. Your father, Jaeherys did as he thought to strengthen House Targaryen, but he did not know what he was messing with or in. The Northern Dragons… their blood is strong; it is also powerful in ways your father did not understand. We feel it, in others, we bond closely. I know Jon is my brother. I know Rhaenys is my sister; Elia my mother. The boy with Jon Connington, shared a womb but not a father with me. Aerion is coming for Jon, do not hinder him. Don’t mess with my mother, I will burn you.”

“Maybe I should marry Daenerys to you and declare you heir, as first-born…”

Gerold snorted. “I don’t want your daughter and I don’t want your throne. Let the sons Elia knows of, fight over it, I just want to protect my family and spend time in their presence. We all don’t crave power.”

“None, of you seem to.” Aerys huffed. “You are right I learnt what my father failed to check. Your blood is different, maybe my cousin and her witch blood is to blame.”

“Northern Dragons, Jaeherys should have done his research.” He really should have. “It is not grandmother’s fault or because her mother was Jenny of Oldstones. Jaeherys should not have tempted fate by stealing Prince Valian.”

“How do you know his true name?”

“The Blood, your father really was a fool to mess in the Old Magic of The North. I have no interest in betraying you so long as you stop torturing my family members. Which do not include the Martell princes by the way.”

“You are as fascinating as ... Jon.” Aerys smirked.

Darkstar turned to leave. “You will not tell my mother or sister who I am.”

“I am king.”

“You are old and just because Jon was benevolent, does not mean I am.” Gerold really wasn’t as just as his little brother and right now Gerold would burn House Targaryen and Martell down to finally have his little brother with him.

By the time Gerold got back to Princess Elia she was receiving a lecture about acceptable husbands for Rhaenys, Rhaenys was glaring hatred at her uncles and her aunt Cersei had crossed the floor to stand slightly ahead of Elia.

“You have no right.” Cersei growled like a lioness. “You twist this family and its members up in convoluted political schemes and give no care to the people you gut to make your plans happen.” Elia was surprised Cersei had come to her defence.

“Rhaenys, maybe Uncles have a point.” Aegon did not like conflict, he was not made for it in truth. Darkstar hoped Young Griff had more guts than this imposter.

“Aegon. Is this because…” Rhaenys asked without asking, they shared a look and Darkstar wondered what his ‘siblings’ had been up to shut away from the world.

“No.” Aegon answered quickly before any one of the adults caught onto their dalliance.

“Well, all I was doing was meeting people. I did not say I was going to marry him.” She hadn’t even seen Lord Tyrell.

“Which she should do.” Gerold added. _Fuel the fire_.

“What business is it of yours, knight?” Oberyn was having a bad day.

“Whoa.” Gerold backed up and made enough distance to do this.

“Darkstar.” Sir Hightower knew Darkstar had a temper, knew it could not be helped, it was his nature. It had taken many years and lessons from various men for Rhaegar to calm his tempest completely. Always he was calmer than Darkstar, but he had bouts of inferno. Difference was Rhaegar had wanted to cool his fire, Darkstar wanted to dance in it.

“Do not worry old Gerold, I will not incinerate him.” Gerold ‘junior’ said with a chuckle.

“Take the ladies to their rooms, there will be no more discussion about the princess’ invitations. The King has decreed she will not be arranged to be wed. So, your highnesses will have to …” Sir Hightower laid down the law.

“Suck it up.” When the elder Gerold growled, the younger shrugged. “I was trying to help.”

“I doubt you are ever trying to help.”

“Hey, I am a little boy with no Mummy, Aerys gave me Princess Elia to love and protect like she was my own. They were mean to her.”

“Just go, Darkstar.” He did with the ladies in tow, he even stole Lady Cersei.

Sir Hightower gave one last piece of advice to the Dornish princes. “If he whipped his own grandson to near death because he falsely believes he will try to usurp his throne, what do you think he will do to you two?”

“Thank you Gerold.” Rhaenys spoke quietly as they got to her mother’s apartments.

“You are most welcome, just doing what a brother should do with his sister.” Two princesses shared a confounded glance. “Because I am protecting Princess Elia like she were my own mother. Not because I wish to do some lurid act with you.” Rhaenys looked very uncomfortable, had Gerold caught her and Aegon out? “Just contemplating what you Targaryens are famous for, how would I know what you do?” Though he guessed now.

“Do not be crass, Darkstar.” Lady Cersei had no suspicions about her niece and nephew, though she probably didn’t guess Aegon was not really her nephew.

_ What a fucking mess_. Targaryen incest was nothing compared to this mess with all the frellin’ Aegons. Gerold knew he was technically Aegon, but he practically didn’t give a shit.

“Well, I have no plans to marry my brother.” Rhaenys really did not. She wanted out, not further in. It had been a desperation, she should be married with children, not still in her home castle. Not to have children, she ensured that never happened, but to not feel ugly and unlovable and well, to keep Aegon off Daenerys.

“Why?” Gerold thought he heard something behind her refusal. Had that little imposter hurt his sister? He would remove unneeded parts of the little shit.

“Should I wish to have an incestuous relationship?” She asked offended.

“No. You just sounded, well, extra averse.” Gerold stared at her critically.

“Don’t you have an Arianne to go molest?” Rhaenys snarked.

Well, yes, he had done that once and he found it untenable to be honest. Other than his mother and sister and the Daynes, Gerold found little use for Dornish people. Especially Martells. They shot down Meraxes, he wanted to put a harpoon through them.

“Arianne is currently acclimatising to marrying Viserys.” Cersei informed her niece.

“Good luck to him,” Gerold said as he led the ladies through the door.” _He will frellin’ need it that girl is salivating to be queen_. Gerold decided he needed to ensure no one died for Arianne’s ambition. He liked the woman, but she had Martell ambitions. He hated Martell ambitions.

“Can we please not talk in this fashion.” Elia was over it all, right now she was tired of it beyond measure.

“Of course.” They all agreed. Elia had enough to endure with her brothers and the king.

“So, when do you plan to meet this Tyrell fellow?” Gerold decided to change the subject. “Will Aegon be doing the ‘don’t dishonour my sister’ thing? If not, did you want me to warn him off being a cad.”

“His letter did not seem as if he would be a cad.” Rhaenys had been quite impressed with the eloquence of his letter and the unassuming content. Most of the replies had been written as if Rhaenys was lucky to have written them. Lord Willas had not assumed he was a catch for her, he was polite and asked for information about her. He informed – warned he said – that he was crippled; his leg had been damaged in a riding accident as a child.

Was it silly? She had also liked the appearance of his handwriting, it looked lordly. It was beautiful to see, and she had followed all the curves around the page. Such a beautiful hand. Most Maesters wrote practically, so to see a fine script was rare. To simply receive a second letter, she had replied to some of his questions and asked more of him.

His second letter had ended with a jest, at least she hoped it was a jest. He asked her to please not tell his grandmother Lady Olenna he was corresponding with her as the Lady would disown him and have his title of Heir to Highgarden striped from him, tossing him onto the streets to be an urchin. She guessed due to her Dornish heritage and the animosity between their two regions.

She sent a quick note to say she had never even spoken to his grandmother, so was unlikely to spill her secrets to her. She hoped he thought it witty. Maybe as she thought about it, she was a little more invested in this lord than she was portraying.

“Let me know. I am happy to flash a little steel to keep him in line.” Gerold saw Rhaenys did not like his suggestion at all. She looked concerned, was it for his desire to stand for her, or was it because she did not want Willas Tyrell scared off?

“That will not be necessary.” She walked away angry.

That was probably for the best, Gerold thought. He had noticed Arianne was acclimatising to marrying Viserys by visiting Aegon at night. The Martells were more incestuous than the Targaryens. _This is why I want to be a Stark_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter is straight into Jonerys meeting in the Light.


	21. A Girl of Honey and Roses, A Boy from a Black Cell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House Wazir's Champion plays for the Silver Dragon Princess and finds out who she truly is.  
All is not roses however.  
The bud of their love however begins to open to never be closed.  
Rhaella makes a deal.  
Other forces start to move against House Targaryen,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not their happy ending yet.

Daenerys sat on what she was sure was supposed to be a luxuriously opulent pillowed chair, all she felt was as if it was about to swallow her. She fidgeted with a tassel on a corner of one of the pillows that were part of the chair.

She had been bathed to remove the sand and perspiration from her – and stench of death in her opinion – from a day watching the games. Her dress was just as gorgeous but Targaryen red and gold. Sir Arthur said she looked as breath-taking as when she had attended the games that day, but she worried Jon would not agree.

What if he thought her plain in fancy clothing? Why was what he thought so important to her, she should wish to look beautiful for her betrothed. Daenerys realised she had not even thought about Aegon once – seriously - since she had heard her mother say Jon’s name, revealing they were in Essos to find him. Should her thoughts not be with the man that would be her husband not with a man she hardly knew?

Then the doors opened and Aegon Targaryen ceased to exist in Daenerys’ world as Jon stepped into the room. She was not confident that she was breath-taking but he definitely was. Dressed in fine but simple clothes. Black leather boots laced to almost his knees over well fitted black trousers: a black vest that looked to be made of a heavier woollen material over a pure white cotton long loose sleeved shirt, cuffed simply at the wrists, he wore no gloves.

His once scruffy beard had been neatly trimmed and his glorious black curls fell to just brush his shoulders, he looked every inch a lord or prince, and Daenerys felt her head go light as he looked at her with his beautiful dark eyes. His face as always was handsomely set with a serious expression.

He bowed his head towards her, causing a curl of black hair to fall in front of his right eye as he straightened. It took all of her inner strength to remain seated and not rush to him and brush it away, that and she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her up to even stand. She must have made a soft gasp as Sir Dayne cleared his throat softly to remind her that she must control her reactions. So, all she did was nod in return.

As Jon raised his head, his eyes met Sir Arthur’s and he smiled broadly, his joy was evident as even his dark eyes shone with it, and as desperately as he wanted to run up and hug the closest person he’d ever had to a guardian or even a father, he knew it was not appropriate.

So, he searched the room with his eyes for his harp and walked over and picked it up. Strumming the strings softly to take his head out of the events of the day, away from death and blood. He still had pain in his shoulder, but it faded with his stress and floated away with the music.

After a few minutes he found his peace and sat down on a chair across the small room from the princess. He cautiously looked at her as he set himself up to play. She was truly a sight to behold, the picture of Targaryen beauty, with her hair of spun silver, her delicate pale looking skin and perfectly created face, that the Gods must have wept to allow her to leave them.

She was as exquisite as he imagined the Girl of Honey and Roses to be. Jon frowned as he thought of her, he missed the scent that wafted around her and lingered for hours after she had departed – where was she now? Did she miss him as he missed the scent of her? He shook his head slightly to refocus himself.

He was in a room with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he was supposed to play his harp and make her happy. So, he played his harp, with all the dexterity the Gods had gifted his fingers and wondered absently why she kept looking at her hands as they sat in her lap.

Daenerys watched as Jon’s eyes met Sir Arthur’s and noted the love and joy, she saw there and wished he had looked like that at her. Would he if he knew she was his Girl of Honey and Roses? She had thought him the most handsome young man when he was solemn, but a happy Jon was incomparable in its divine beauty.

Then she realised what she had just thought: **his** girl, she’d thought of herself as **his** just as she had thought of him as ‘hers’. It was all too much for the young princess, she stared down at her hands as she folded them in her lap so her eyes could not betray her to this wonder of a boy, who she was now quite certain she was falling in love with, if she hadn’t already completed the journey.

The music he played brought a tear to her eye in its beauty. To think only hours previous those hands that made such sweet sounds had held a sword and was spilling his opponents’ blood. How had he been cursed to be capable of creating such profoundly lovely peaceful music, but his life had always been so ugly and such a struggle? How had his soul remained untainted by his circumstance?

Jon was enjoying the time of rest and escape from the harshness of his life, but he was meant to be playing for the princess and he felt at a loss to see her finding any comfort or enjoyment in his efforts. She did not react at all, just stared at her hands, her head down, she did not speak or make any sound at all. Either he was not useful and should not be here or she should not be here. Finally, in his frustration at the futility of it he spoke.

“Does her highness have any requests? I have been taught most of the Westerosi songs, I could play your favourite”

She said nothing, just shook her head. So, he stopped playing and put the instrument down. Folded his hands in his lap started to stare at them in silence, wondering what he was supposed to do.

Sir Arthur Dayne almost laughed at the scene; the pale princess almost perfectly mirrored by the dark lord. Both staring at their hands too afraid to look at each other. They couldn’t look more awkward if someone had just introduced them and told them they would be wed in an hour, so get to know one another; the thought made the knight smile, he had known them both their entire lives and two kinder hearts were never made – or two stronger heads –the two young nobles would make a perfect couple.

Then he frowned knowing Daenerys was bound to her nephew Aegon in marriage – a marriage which would not bring her true happiness. He absently wondered which Aegon it was supposed to be, King Aerys thought Jon was also an Aegon. Arthur blinked as the implications of that sank into his reasoning. _Surely not the boy_. However, Westeros and Crown Prince Aegon Targaryen – all except Jon - were a long way away and anything could happen in Essos, so Sir Arthur set a fire.

“Daenerys,” Sir Arthur broke the silence, the two young people looked at him. “As we have an interval in the music, perhaps you can update young Jon on Ghost’s health.” Daenerys looked shocked the kingsguard had revealed she had knowledge of the Direwolf. Jon looked surprised that the princess even knew Ghost existed, but the thought of his beloved Ghost made him bold.

“You know about Ghost.” Jon directed his entire attention on the girl, staring at her expectantly, willing her to speak. The pleading look in his eyes loosened her lips. How could she deny him?

“A giant white wolf is hard to miss.” Daenerys smiled as she looked at him, but as she spoke, his expression changed from curiosity to one of sudden recognition. She remembered instantly why she had wanted to avoid talking to him, her hands flew to cover her offending mouth.

Jon was aghast as he recognised the voice of the princess as the sweet voice of his Girl of Honey and Roses. He mentally chided himself not **his** girl, this was the princess. His heart sank a little at the revelation; his dream of freedom and finding the Girl of Honey and Roses was shattered.

_ You are a naïve idiot, Jon._

His face wore a mask of devastation and Daenerys’ soon mirrored it as she thought her identity was abhorrent to him. Sir Arthur almost rolled his eyes at the melodrama that could be about to play out.

“Her highness, Princess Daenerys and I have been making sure he gets exercise.” Jon eyes left Daenerys for a second, which gave her time to calm her emotions, then his eyes returned to her, but a grateful look was replacing the previous horrified expression.

Daenerys smiled coyly. “He loves running in the Kingswood. It is not easy to sneak him out, but we have gotten very good at it,” Her voice held some pride at the achievement. “He is a giant white wolf after all. When we can’t get him out, we make sure he is well fed with the best meat.” Daenerys watched Jon’s eyes brighten and an incredible smile spread across his face as she spoke of his Direwolf. She frowned slightly with her next words, “He misses you terribly, I thought he would just lay down and die after you left but Sir Dayne said we should not give up on him. We had to take care of him for you. It wasn’t easy hiding him from the rest of the Keep, especially my father. I could not bear the thought of my father finding him, so before we left for Essos, Sir Dayne released him into the Kingswood and contacted someone to watch over him.”

“Who?” Jon asked looking at Sir Dayne.

“Your uncle.” Sir Dayne’s voice was matter-of-fact. Jon looked at Arthur with a confused look on his face.

“My uncle?” Jon wasn’t aware he had an uncle.

“Yes, your uncle. The man who brought Ghost to the Red Keep as a cub. He travelled down from The Wall to watch your Direwolf.”

“The Wall?” Jon knew the name; it was the architectural wonder on the edge of the ‘civilised’ world in the far north of Westeros. The seat of the Brothers of The Night’s Watch. “My uncle is a black brother.”

“Actually, in truth you have two uncles who are sworn brothers of the Night’s Watch.”

“So, what does that say of my family?” Once the Night’s Watch were honourable men that pledged their lives to the protection of the Realm from hostile forces North of the Wall; Wildings, Giants and even the fabled White Walkers of childhood scary tales. Of recent times the Night’s Watch was populated more by criminals escaping a ‘worse’ fate. So, Jon was torn to whether his family were criminals or good men.

“Both pledged of their own will, neither said the words by force. Both are honourable men and in the case of your other uncle, a far better man than his other relatives.” Sir Arthur spoke with obvious disdain for some men of Jon’s family, that made him less confident of his blood lines.

“It is not terrible thing to have family on The Wall.” Daenerys interjected at the uncertain look Jon wore. “There is even a Targaryen on The Wall. My Great Uncle Aemon Targaryen is the Maester of Castle Black. I have never met him, but Mother says he and Rhaegar corresponded constantly. She says he is a very old, very kind, very wise man. I think sometimes she thinks he should have served the Realm as King instead of my Great Grandfather Aegon V.”

“I am sure he would have been a great king, but that does not make my family sound any better. Maybe…”

“Aerys was wrong.” Sir Dayne snapped.

“Sir Dayne is right. I mean he said the other uncle, so the uncle with Ghost must be from the other side of your family. He and that side of your family must be honourable.”

“That is what Geron says.”

“Who is Geron?” Arthur asked, had Jon a friend, an ally?

“My Barristan. I mean the mercenary who helped me live today.”

“He was very good.” Sir Dayne had seen great skill in the golden lad.

“He was.” Jon nodded thankful Geron had volunteered to help him.

“You were quite marvellous too.” Daenerys thought that was necessary to say, but felt embarrassed when Jon looked at her in surprise and Arthur turned to smile at her in a way that said she may have stepped over a line, but he wasn’t going to reveal it to Jon if he did not see her topple into gushing girl. “You did win the fight for our House. Thank you.” She blushed and her head went back to her hands in her lap.

“I must admit, it was a defiant act against your father.” Jon was enjoying speaking with her again, even if she was now a princess. She was every bit as beautiful as he imagined she would be and he was saddened to think his dreams could never be now, but he would enjoy this little time that he had with her.

“You won to defy my father?” She looked up curious.

“Yeah, I thought he was the foreign royal and he was here to set me up and torture me again, so I decided I would win to say I would not bend to his low opinion of me. Sorry.”

“So, after you saw it wasn’t him, why did you continue?”

“They would have killed me.” He said as if it was a stupid question, but saw his response and tone stung the Girl of Honey and Roses. “And the queen looked so sad I thought if I won and killed the Baratheon, she would feel better, or comforted. I wanted her to not have to witness a terrible event in her life.”

“How kind.” Daenerys said softly.

“I hope I did not embarrass myself.” Jon was now embarrassed, he did not wish to seem arrogant before her, now she was not just a princess he did not know or care about. _Shit, why is my life always so complicated?_

The Princess was complicated, he had been wishing to see his captor’s daughter. Had wanted more too but now she was the princess, he would need forget any of that. _Well done Jon, you have been yearning to see the only girl in the world you should have nothing to do with_. He reminded himself he had not stolen or done anything wrong to be here, this was her mother’s idea, so he could enjoy this last and first meeting in the Light.

“Oh no.” Daenerys leaned forward. “You did perfectly.” She did not know that for certain, but she believed it. He was caused to sit back slightly, she was as exquisite as he had imagined, more so, and if he did not keep his distance, Sir Arthur may need slay him.

“Not quite Geron has an impaled shoulder and I have a dislocated one. We made one or two mistakes.” He was still the humble boy, Arthur remembered, even fame had not changed him.

“Still you did very well.” She turned with a questioning expression to Sir Arthur. “They did very well didn’t they?”

“Very.” Arthur smiled with pride. “Only a real Direwolf or Dragon at your side could have made it better.” Daenerys turned and enthusiastically nodded.

“Ghost would have ripped them apart for attacking you.” She knew Ghost would have torn many throats to pieces for Jon. “He really does miss you and wants you to come home.”

The princess’ words surprised both Arthur and Jon. Arthur had not expected her to express her affection so openly. She just told the boy he belonged where she was and where she was, should be Jon’s home. The sentiment was nice, but who knew how Aerys or the imposter Aegon, even one of the real ones would accept that.

Jon was just overwhelmed by her energy. He had barely had anything to cling to in his life and few cared much – were not allowed to – for him. Princess Daenerys spoke with the inflection that he was not just a part of her existence, he was essential. He had trouble just with the thought of her considering him part of her life. He could not contemplate what she might be inferring, he was not free to explore what she meant so he concentrated on the part he could. Ghost.

“Well as long as Ghost is in safe hands.” Jon spoke softly. “I do miss him greatly.”

Daenerys’ mouth sank into a deep pout, Jon looked stricken for a moment as it looked like the princess would burst into tears. “I am sorry.” She sighed with great emotional pain.

“For what?”

“That my father has done such terrible things to you.” She sniffed to avoid crying.

Jon leaned forward in his chair. “It had nothing to do with you.” He did not blame her. “The king is mad, that is probably why he got that title he hates.” He grinned to show he could see the funny side and got a small smile, which quickly faded as she thought how Jon being a slave was her father’s fault.

“He was supposed to let you go. He sold you when he was supposed to free you. He promised my mother.” She knew she did not have to explain how wrong all this was to Jon; he had been living it. However, she had lived a lie of expectations. “I thought you were free and happy here in Essos.”

Jon was struck by her sentiment, she had thought of him in the intervening months, he had hoped his Girl of Honey and Roses had not forgotten him and had similar dreams as him to reuniting, but she was a princess. A princess would not have given him a second thought, except apparently he was wrong and she did and now he was confused. He was happy the girl he had thought fondly of and missed, reciprocated his regard, but her status and station also made him find that hard to believe. What if it was dangerous for her? Aerys hurt people Jon liked and who liked him. Would he hurt his own daughter to wound Jon?

“You should not have to miss him or he you.” A fire flashed in the princess’ eyes as she was reminded of her hatred of her father.

“Life is as it is, no use lamenting.” Jon shrugged, his non-chalant tone made his audience stare at him with wonder. He may be prone to fits of sullenness but sometimes he exuded an almost ancient peace. Jon picked up the harp and started to play a beautiful old piece that could have calmed an enraged Dragon.

* * *

Queen Rhaella did not give the Great Master a moment of peace after the Games. To emphases her displeasure she had walked back to his pyramid with her entourage in tow, refusing to travel with the man who had enraged her. She also spoke loudly of her offense and rage on the way, so everyone knew Master Wazir had insulted his honoured guests. This brought great shame on Master Wazir and his house as all Meereen could see the famous foreign guests were so insulted they had not stayed to meet the Champion and would not share his palanquins. By the time they had reached the pyramid there was no corner of the city that did not know of his shame and the queen’s rage at him.

The Queen sent her daughter and the younger white cloak to be refreshed for their audience with the Champion, but she and the older White cloak immediately sought the Great Master, with an expression on her face that made him wish for death.

“Master, for no longer will I refer to you as Great. We will discuss the insult you have given myself; my husband, the King of Westeros; my daughter; my dead son; my House and my entire Realm!”

“Sweet lady…” His voice waivered in the fire of her rage.

“Do not try to pacify me with your empty apologies and sugared words! It is Your Grace! This insult you have done us will NOT be rectified by words! It will take a great gesture, and when I say great I mean monumental!”

“Your grace, I do not understand. The Champion won the games and his battle honoured your House.”

“Really?! Is my son living again?! Has he been resurrected?”

“No but …”

“So, you think that a slave winning a mock mummer’s version of my son’s last battle should please me?” Her voice was low and dangerous. “You show that a slave, your Champion, can win where my son lost. That if a slave had commanded our armies instead of my beloved firstborn son, that the greatest defeat my House has known could have been avoided. You shamed me and my House before all Meereen! How dare you!” She hissed her displeasure. The Great Master looked horrified and terrified, Sir Barristan kept his face sober and angry – it was hard to not show his pride in his Dragon of a Queen. “Those that shame us **burn**, Master Wazir.”

“Please sweet lady, I meant no shame or dishonour to you or your House. What can I do to make peace with you?”

“Nothing!” She looked immovable. “Especially,” she continued after a great silence, “When your famed Champion is the lost prince, stolen from his family. The danger you have placed my daughter and I in. The danger we face from just watching that travesty.”

“I know nothing of a stolen prince.”

“Do you think ignorance will save either of us? Save us when his family’s armies and beasts come for us? Believe me, nothing will save us as long as that young man fights in the pits for his life.”

“This is not my fault …” he was about to call her lady but the flame in her eyes stalled him, “Your grace. I bought a slave I did not place him in slavery.”

“No, you just placed him in the fighting pits. For what did you say over a hundred combats? At least he would have been safer as a pleasure slave.”

“Would his Father have been happier with that?”

“His father would tear the skin from your bones for any act you forced his son to do.” Sir Barristan answered for his Queen, the rumble in his voice was as ominous as his Queen’s.

Barristan believed this. Rhaegar was known for his compassion and good heart, but Barristan had seen the Dragon erupt, and it was terrifying. The knight was still in shock, he had never seen the boy well, but now to see him and know Rhaegar had another son, an unmistakable son. How had Aerys tortured Rhaegar’s own son? How had the Queen allowed it? How would any God forgive any of them?

“Watch for the fires as his father scorches the earth to get his son. Note the stench of death on the winds. I cannot forgive you putting my daughter’s life in danger and I doubt my husband will accept your ignorance as an excuse if his beloved favourite child dies for it. I have lived a good life, but Daenerys has only turned fifteen. She deserves a safer and happier life.” The Queen was moved to true tears at the last statement but then fire entered her eyes to burn away the water. “Neither will her betrothed the heir to the Iron Throne, Prince Aegon a true Dragon with a terrible temper. Whom I might add is the son of the man you mocked today.”

“Surely there is a solution?” The Great Master’s voice was pleading. The Queen frowned and shook her head slowly, resigned.

“Sell him. Get him out of Meereen.” Barristan ‘s voice was low and solemn.

“What?!” The Slave Master was shocked.

“Barristan! You cannot suggest such a thing. Cursing another with the fate of death and destruction.” Rhaella sounded surprised and averse to his idea.

“Or send him to his father and make no profit at all. Possibly still calling his rage down upon you.” Barristan’s voice was flat. “Slavery is outrageous and there is a reason it is outlawed. A family who hates it more than any other … let him punish the man who dares enslave his heir.” Barristan only regretted this threat was empty as there was no father to rage at this atrocity.

“The other Great Masters would laugh me down to give away my Champion, my fortune. They would call me a fool and a fool I would be. Better to die a Great Master than a fool, by giving away my House’s greatest treasure.”

Barristan stared the Great Master in the eye. “Then sell the man at a great price and be rid of the danger.”

“Who would believe I wish to sell the man?” He spoke to the knight as if the White cloak was a fool.

“Everyone if you sold him to the right person.”

“Sir Barristan! Whatever are you talking about? Quite frankly after the insult of my House today I do not see why we would give helpful advice to save this man.” The Queen was cold to the Master’s fate. “We need to keep my daughter safe due to this man’s ignorance and arrogance. We need to enact a plan to make reparations to the prince’s family, to ask their forgiveness. We have no time to salvage this man’s life.”

Barristan did not look at the Master as the queen pointed at him, he looked at his queen with a soft look in his eyes, a look of compassion. “Perhaps we can do both my queen.”

“How? What are you suggesting?” The queen was a true actress with her confused look and tone.

“We purchase the Champion.” Both the Queen and the Great Master looked astonished at his words.

“We do what?” The Queen asked disbelieving she had heard right, at least that is how it appeared.

“We or more to the point you purchase the prince from the Great Master.”

“You could not afford him.” The Great Master stated still holding to his arrogance.

“Barristan he is right.”

“My Queen surely the sting of the insult of today would be lessened if the Great Master was to sell you the prince. Then you return the prince to his family and save your daughter Princess Daenerys. You save the Great Master from the death that awaits him for his enslaving of the boy. You returning the prince to his family would make amends to his father for the wrongs we have witnessed visited upon his son. I would say all these reasons are worth a great, no, a monumental reduction in his price. Surely the prestige of owning the Champion is not worth more to the Great Master than his life and the lives of his entire household. Fortune helps you little in Hell.” The Great Master swallowed hard.

Rhaella’s eyes filled with true tears as the truth of some of Barristan’s words buffeted her heart. “Yes, we must make amends to his father for the wrongs we have seen done to him. Perhaps taking him from our shackles in Hell.” She took a deep breath and turned to the Great Master. “I would purchase this slave to clear my House’s conscience. You will reduce his price significantly to repay the insult of today; the danger you have placed my daughter in and to compensate me for the wrath I will face in your stead, to save your own throat and that of all you love.”

“My lady even if I agreed the price would still be beyond you to pay.”

“Then perhaps we need to negotiate what your life is worth and talk about what I have to pay with.” Her voice was smooth and her tone was enigmatic. “Oh, and when we do settle on a price and we will. The purchase will be in my daughter Daenerys’ name. This man’s freedom will pay to secure her safety and release her from an unsavoury circumstance.” Sir Barristan raised a questioning eyebrow at his queen, but she just smiled mysteriously.

“My Queen.” Barristan was not sure how to ask the question he had for his queen.

“Yes Barristan?”

“I understand now why we must free the boy.”

“Slavery is disgusting.”

“Because he is the reason Rhaegar is dead.” The Queen spun enraged the knight would voice and support Aerys’ insane belief.

“He is not at fault!”

“I did not say he was at fault, I said he was the reason.” Barristan spoke calmly, not cowed by the queen’s anger.

“Would you like to explain the difference?” She was still angry but the look on Barristan’s face was of sadness not arrogance.

“Maybe your grace, you husband has been misunderstood.”

“Really?” She did not sound as if she believed him.

“Maybe Aerys knew what you did not.”

“Which would be what?”

“That Rhaegar would die for Jon or whatever his real name is. That Rhaegar was not fighting for House Targaryen, or the Crown and Throne, nor for pride or a sense of entitlement. He died to protect that boy, to give Lady Lyanna and Arthur time.” Barristan sighed sadly. “He said he needed Robert to be focused on him, to make time. Time for Jon to be born so Lyanna could escape with Arthur’s help I would guess.”

“What exactly did Rhaegar say to you Barristan before that battle?”

“Much I did not understand until that lad stepped onto the sands today.”

> “Is this wise my Prince? I do not like the way this battle is building up.”
> 
> “This is definitely not wise Barristan. I am almost sure I will die tomorrow.”
> 
> “Why do we not fall back to a stronger position? A loyal Castle or the Red Keep? Make Robert Baratheon come to you, he will not be able to siege the city forever.”
> 
> “I cannot let Robert get any further south he must not get below the Trident.”
> 
> “Why?”
> 
> “Because if he does, he will be too close Barristan and there will not be enough time. I need to make time.”

** **

“Was it that obvious?”

“When dressed as a Targaryen, yes. He may not have the colouring but he is more the Dragon Prince than any of his siblings or children, even more than you and your brother.” Barristan replied. It was as if only Jon was related to Rhaegar.

As the queen and Sir Barristan left the negotiations having secured Jon’s purchase, they were greeted by a loitering Geron, still dressed as Barristan the Bold. He looked expectantly at them.

“Move aside Mercenary.” Sir Selmy commanded.

“As one Barristan to another, I don’t think so yet.” He smiled broadly.

“Make way for Queen Rhaella of the Seven Kingdoms.” Barristan’s tone was authoritarian.

“As I said, no. At least not until I hear the results of your talk with the Great Master.” He looked the Queen boldly in the eye. “Has your grace secured the release of my king? I mean my prince?”

“Your king?” The queen stared back into his blue eyes.

“As I said, I meant my prince.”

“Your prince?”

“Yes. Have you secured his release?”

“His ownership has been transferred if that is your meaning.”

“Not perfect but it is a start. When will you leave Meereen? I must prepare his steed, armour and sword.”

“Excuse me?” The young man’s presumption both amused her and irritated her.

“From the battle today. I have secured it all for my prince.”

“He will not need that armour or cloak.” Anger rose in the queen’s voice.

“Not now, but in the future. I do not think my prince is a man to wear plate armour anymore and it is extremely good quality attire.”

“You presume sir!”

“Mayhaps you do not presume enough. My prince does not seek his birthright but it will come to pass that he will not be able to deny it. A prince was promised, the Gods will not allow their promise to be ignored forever.”

“It is not his birthright.” There was a tinge of sadness to her words.

“Oh, but it is my Lady, his and Daenerys’.” Geron leaned in so only Rhaella could hear.

“How dare you talk of my daughter, Mercenary.”

Geron leaned closer as he saw Sir Barristan about to swoop in to protect his queen. “I speak of my Queen, your grace.” Quick as lightning he withdrew from her side. “Again when do **we** leave Meereen?”

“Within two days, as quickly as ship passage out of Slaver’s Bay can be arranged and payment is made.” In a strange way this man comforted Rhaella, he had obviously become devoted to Jon, he would be a benefit to them. “Stay in contact Mercenary.”

“Oh, you will not miss me your grace. As of this moment I will not be leaving my prince’s side.” He ripped off the white cloak and the stained armour, dumping them unceremoniously on the ground, leaving the padded armour and clothes underneath. “Sorry for any insult Sir Barristan, I always dreamed of growing up to be just like you as a boy, today my dream came true. I hope I did not shame you. I however am not Aerys’ or Rhaegar’s Kingguard, so the armour is unsuitable.”

“No insult Mercenary. You played me with honour and skill. I only wish I had saved my prince.” Sir Selmy sounded sad.

“You have done your prince a great service today by helping mine Sir Barristan. I believe he will forgive you.” The Queen and her guard stared at the retreating mercenary.

* * *

The door to the apartment where Jon played his harp for the princess burst open and the mercenary entered all cleaned up and looking more like a Westerosi Lord. Geron was dressed in red and gold accented garments very similar to Jon’s attire except for the personal touch Jon had subtracted as it was. Sir Dayne drew his sword as he stepped in front of his princess. Geron strode into the room giving everyone a quick glance when his eyes lit upon Jon his face brightened.

“My King! Sorry my Prince.” The golden man half-turned, leaning to see around Sir Dayne, then with a mischievious grin he sighed deeply. “I see I was correct my prince, your evening has not been as exciting as it could have been. Shame the night held such a great potential but I suppose you just can’t hope for a white cloak to make themselves scarce when you need it.” Daenerys blushed, Arthur growled and Jon rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“How is it Sir Geron that you have been able to bathe and change attire while you stood guard outside for your prince’s protection?” Jon wore a quizzical look. Geron did not look reprimanded, he just smiled again. “Or are you so brash and full of bravado that you took a bath outside these very doors for all the slaves to see?”

“See and admire my prince.” Geron laughed heartily, flicking his hair in an exaggerated way. Jon tried not to laugh, he tried to look disappointed, but he failed. Sir Arthur slid his sword back into its scabbard, but did not move, keeping himself between the princess and the man who sold his sword for gold. “However, in truth, I did leave my post,” Jon shook his head slowly in mock derision. “I was _making myself scarce for my prince’s discretion_.” Geron turned to eyeball Arthur, “Unlike some. I was giving my prince and his princess some privacy.” Jon’s eyes went wide at the words ‘his princess’ and his smile disappeared, he wished he could stuff the words back down Geron’s throat so Princess Daenerys and Sir Dayne had never heard them.

“Geron, you go too far!” Jon wanted to crawl under the chair he sat on to avoid the princess and her knight, how could Geron do this to him? Then it occurred to him, he had only known the mercenary a matter of hours, why had he expected any loyalty from him? It was all Geron’s ‘my prince’ nonsense, he needed to stop thinking this stranger his friend. He had no friends. He did not even have Ghost anymore – his only true friend.

“Maybe my prince just does not go far enough.”

“You will stop this nonsense!” Jon’s eyes widened in rage.

“My aren’t we getting all authoritarian for a slave boy.” Geron was not trying to hurt Jon, but his words cut Jon’s rage down, and his self-esteem as well. Daenerys gasped at Geron’s words and again Sir Dayne growled, this time at the insult to Jon. “I mean, what would your owner think of the way you are acting?” Geron stepped back into a position where he could look directly at the princess. “We are delving into Dragon temper again my Prince and you said you were a cool headed Direwolf. What do you think of the way the slave prince just commanded me, Princess?”

Daenerys stared at Jon and his angry but deflated posture and expression. “Maybe **sellsword** if you do not wish the man to speak authoritatively to you, you should not constantly call him your prince. Why do you call him that?”

Geron flashed Daenerys a brilliant smile, she thought he must have girls fawning over him all the time, this golden lord. She felt badly for him because his charms were useless on her, as she stole a quick glance at the dark lord across from her – no fair man would ever hold her heart. Then Princess Daenerys blushed at her thoughts and stared at her hands as the realisation hit her that she was not just smitten with Jon Snow anymore, and that Crown Prince Aegon would never be pleasing to her as a husband.

“Because dear lady, he is my prince.”

“Do all of you go to the same enigma tutor?” Daenerys asked in frustration, why was there no one who spoke plainly.

“The Knight’s may your highness, I unfortunately don’t answer clearly as I know nothing. I am privy to no secrets.” Jon was trying to reassure her.

“Even his own secrets.” Geron said in a low voice.

“What secrets of Jon’s do you know?” Daenerys thought Geron knew even less than her about Jon.

Geron smiled mysteriously. “Well. Today has been a great day. We have rectified our fathers defeats and repaid their debts of failure.”

“How so, Sir Geron?” Jon asked as Sir Arthur Dayne looked about to flay Geron.

“Well we are both from Westeros so our respective fathers were bound to have taken part in the Rebellion on one side or the other, most probably at the Trident so we either repaid their debts of treachery or rectified their defeat. We just won the Battle of the Trident for their glory!”

“We most certainly did not! It was a mummer’s farce.”

“I got to play my hero Sir Barristan the Bold.” Geron looked at Daenerys. “I always wanted to grow up and be just like him. I used to play Duskendale and rescue the Mad King when he wasn’t quite so mad. You my prince, you did House Targaryen proud, the perfect Targaryen Prince.” Geron had a look of pride on his handsome features. But as he turned to Jon, he noted the concerned look on his prince’s face at his words. “Well, all except for the fact you look more a dark Direwolf than a silver Dragon, anyway you did your House proud.”

“My House?” Jon sounded unsure; Arthur was truly livid.

“Did I not hear the proud kingsguards say you were raised in the Red Keep, seat of House Targaryen? That makes them your House until your family are able to claim you and give you their House. So, for now you are of House Targaryen.” There was no jest to Geron’s words, just simple logic. Arthur even relaxed at the line of logic he had drawn.

Jon threw his head back and laughed so deeply, he nearly hyperventilated. “Oh … That… is… beautiful. I wish… I could … say that to … King Aerys.” Jon tried to get his breathing under control. He knew he should not laugh, but he could not stop himself. “He would surely kill me. I however cannot think of a more worthwhile death.” He returned to laughing and hyperventilating.

Daenerys was not however laughing, although to hear Jon laugh so heartily was wonderful the reason did not amuse her at all. “That is not amusing.” She snapped. Her anger snapped Jon out of his revelry, he immediately lost his grin and it was almost as if he stopped breathing altogether. The knights gave her their full attention, both wore a serious expression.

“I…” Jon was having trouble speaking either from the breathing difficulties or the emotions he was now experiencing, he looked very guilty. He had offended the princess.

The hems of her skirts fell in waves of red to the floor as she stood for the first time all evening. Daenerys had drawn herself up in all her regal glory, but Jon only saw a perfect petite girl who he had obviously wounded, and he felt a bully. Daenerys started for the apartment doors, determined to be the picture of her title ‘Stormborn’. She halted just before the doors and turned to the men, she was a bit surprised as Jon bolted up out of his chair and walked quickly toward her, she nearly lost her fire as she looked at his distressed expression, but then she remembered what he had said.

“You gentlemen should know there is no worthwhile death, they are all futile and wasteful of the lives thrown away on them!” Jon pulled up in his stride at her words. Tears formed in the princess’ eyes. “What good is a hero to the woman he leaves behind that loved him and will never be loved by him again? Men think we want them to die for us, we don’t! We want them to live!” With that she spun and ran from the room.

Jon was lost with what he should do, he did not know exactly what to take from the princess’ tirade. He turned to stare askance at Arthur and Geron, they both shrugged. He decided he had better make sure the girl was okay and strode to the door, he froze when he pulled the doors open as he looked into the curious faces of the Great Master’s guards. He slowly closed the doors and stepped backwards into the room his head hung low.

_ She has escaped me. In here I am a person, outside I am a slave. How could I have forgotten?_

He raised his head after a few minutes, returned to the seat to retrieve his harp and then very slowly walked out of the warm room where he had played to a beautiful princess and into his cold life of slavery. Jon did not wait for the guards he just trudged back to his cell, opened the gate and walked in.

He sank onto the cot and stared at his harp, then quite deliberately he took the two ends of the instrument and twisted with all his strength and all his pain. Twisted until the wood started to splinter and the strings went slack, then he threw the broken thing against the wall. There was no one to question him, his cellmate had died on the sands earlier in the day.

The man who could not be broken by King Aerys tortures; the Great Master’s beatings; by slavery; or by the blood he endured every day; not even the loss of Ghost – had been broken by the tears of a girl. He did not know how long he sat staring at his hands, and his broken harp, his head filled with self-hatred for making The Girl of Honey and Roses cry.

The seneschal arrived at his gate all fidgety, which was normal. “The Great Master wishes to have you brought to him now you have finished with our honoured guest. Though I think you need return to your regular attire Champion, it would not do for a slave to present himself to his Master dressed as a Lord. Time to finish that act.”

“Yes, it is time to finish this act.” Jon’s voice was cold and hard. “I will set aside this false costume. Send the guards in a few moments I will be ready.” With that he started to remove the boots – he’d thought he’d keep them earlier but now he wanted nothing to do with them, discarding them next to the broken harp. The doublet and shirt were next and then the breeches. He slipped his slave garb back on, feeling for the first time like he belonged in them.

_ The Great Master is probably angry I upset the Princess._ He was angry at himself for his wrongs against the Master’s guest. He deserved whatever beating he was about to endure.

Jon had never wished to be anyone in his life, his only wish had been to one day be free. To be able to look up at the sky with Ghost by his side and to look upon the face of the girl whose scent brought sweetness to his dreary life. He had now gazed upon her features and she was even more exquisite in person than he could have imagined and not just of face but her heart seemed to be just as beautiful as her laugh and her scent. Jon would not say he loved her, for Jon was not sure he even knew what the emotion was.

His wish to have meet her had been impossible when he thought her a high born girl, but now she was a princess, the daughter of a man who had hated Jon, hated him so much he had tortured him most of his life. Even if his reason for hating Jon was because he was the son of some lord that wronged his House, Jon would still never be worthy of a princess.

His life had always been dark and hopeless, and this revelation had taken what little hope he had squeezed out of it. He would need to cling to those few short moments when he had had been able to talk to her as if they were equals, when she did not see how unfathomably below her he was. He supposed now she saw her strange curiosity was futile and she would not seek to ever see him again. He snorted, she probably didn’t this time. The Queen had arranged it. Why? To show the Princess the truth of how unworthy this boy was of her attention.

_ Why do I even bother to try to survive my hell of a life?_

As if on cue, a guard arrived at the gate he carried manacles for Jon’s hands, which was strange he hadn’t been manacled since he was declared Champion of the Master’s Household. He did not fight it though, somehow he felt it appropriate after his shameful actions of this night. The guard was new too, a very large man with burn scars on his arms. Jon sighed as the manacles snapped shut and were locked. Then the guard did a strange thing he swallowed the key. He dragged Jon from the cell and down a corridor, it occurred to Jon the pyramid was very quiet, there were no other slaves, or even guards, and they were headed in the wrong direction, they headed out of the Master’s pyramid.

“Hey! Where are we going? The seneschal said the Great Master wished to see me. Why are we leaving the pyramid?” Jon was no fool so he knew this guard was not his Master’s, he could have fought and tried to escape, but as he looked over his shoulder at his Master’s home he resigned himself to whatever his new fate was, and for that moment the defiance went out of him. The pyramid no longer held anything for him. The guard and the Champion of Great Master Wazir disappeared into the dark alleys of Meereen and the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> However, this is their solid planting.
> 
> Yes, I know Wazir caved quickly but really do we care?????


	22. The Missing Prince; Missing again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah Jon has fallen into someone else's hands.  
We momentarily met Young Griff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to upload a picture of Aegon family tree to explain them, it screwed up. I will keep attempting.  
Also I suck at summaries for chapters, so ride the dragon with me.  
Hope you like determined Daenerys near end.

Daenerys ran all the way to the guest apartments she shared with her mother, by the time she arrived her face streamed with tears. Queen Rhaella was still bathing to remove the ‘stench’ of the day’s events, so Daenerys was left to sinking onto her bed and crying into her pillows. After some time, a hand gently touched her shoulder to rub it lightly, a large calloused hand. The princess raised her head from her tear-soaked pillow to stare into the kind old eyes of Sir Barristan.

“Princess, did he not play well?” His voice was gentle. Perhaps the lad had not inherited his father’s talent.

“Oh, Sir Selmy.” Daenerys fell into his arms to continue crying against his armoured chest.

“Hush child. You must dry your eyes; tonight is a time for celebration. Also, child I don’t want to scrub rust off my armour I left my squire in King’s Landing.” He smiled at her. “Imagine also how long it’ll take you to make all that puffiness around your eyes subside.”

Daenerys smiled weakly at the old knight. “Jon played wonderfully but then the topic went to battle, and death and he said something stupid,” she sniffed, “I left and he didn’t follow.” She pouted at Sir Barristan.

Barristan chuckled, “He is barely more than a boy, he is the age called ‘stupid’. Just think how terribly simple Aegon has been for the last couple of years. Jon is allowed one silly comment, he has been grown-up for far too long. Give the young man some space to be stupid, as to talk of death… it has been his life. Even in the Red Keep, he never knew when he woke each morning if that was the day he would die. His first memory as Sir Arthur tells it is of death, a horrific death. Only hours ago, he killed a man because your mother nodded. Be forgiving princess, death is more that boy’s family than his own dead parents.”

“Well he could have come to apologise for his silly comment so I could be forgiving.”

“How? The boy is a slave. If he tried to follow you, he would have been dragged back to his cell…” Barristan spoke gently to his sad little princess, because that is exactly what she looked like.

“…and lashed if he fought to follow.” Queen Rhaella’s voice was stony. Barristan stiffened at the comment, Daenerys was surprised Barristan had never really been interested in Jon previously but even on the walk back to the pyramid he had made strange and angry comments.

Rhaella came to sit next to her daughter and took her from the knight’s arms. “You have experienced so little true hardship in your life my darling you forget some people do not have your freedom. I am happy your heart is still kind and you rail against injustice in your soul, but injustice is everywhere, and Jon has never known true freedom. His life has been cells and chains, just because instances have been contrived to make it appear he is free, does not change the truth that he has never been free. He has never actually been free and he has always known it even if you forgot. His hardships were only a game of intrigue to you and my other grandchildren.”

_ What does she mean ‘other’?_

“It is unfair mother.”

“Yes, child it is. Think how much worse it is for him.” Daenerys nodded sadly and leaned into her mother’s embrace taking comfort from her mother’s warmth. She suddenly felt guilty as she thought how Jon had never had this simple comfort; who comforted him when he was scared as a child? “However, my darling,” her mother stroked her hair and tilted Daenerys’ head up so she was looking Daenerys in the eye. “Tonight we may start a change to Jon’s story.” Her mother had a beautiful smile when she shared it.

The apartment doors opened and Sir Arthur stood in the doorway. “… said you would stay by his side, so go.”

“I have an ill feeling Sir.” Geron had no joy in his voice.

“Then make haste.” Sir Arthur closed the door and walked further into the guest apartments, the ladies and his fellow kingsguard watched him with interest.

“Sir, I apologise for running away and for my harsh words.” Daenerys was feeling a bit silly for running away from her audience with Jon.

“You need not apologise for your words. They were true, why else do the kingsguard swear never to take wives. The same reason the Night Watch does, to save the hearts of women waiting for men whose very jobs mean death, for strangers or in our case Kings.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “You do have to apologise however for the cowardly act of running after saying them.” Daenerys frowned at his reprimand.

“Boys are braver than girls, it is harder for girls not to be cowardly.”

“That is not true. I have known some of the most courageous of women during my life. Your mother for one.”

“Thank you, Arthur.”

“Well that is still only one.” Daenerys countered.

“If you’d like another, my sister Ashara and of course Lady Lyanna, she was braver than most men I have met.” Daenerys listened to the reverence in Arthur’s voice and a sad faraway look in his eye, she wasn’t sure which woman he was mourning.

“What happened to the boy?” Barristan asked, attempting to move the conversation away, he knew his princess, she asked awkward questions when her curiosity was peaked. But Daenerys it seemed had an off switch, Barristan noted a dark-haired boy, the mention of him derailed her thoughts.

“Was he very angry?” Daenerys sounded worried.

“You princess have spent too much time in the company of your father, brother and nephew.” Arthur shook his head sadly.

“Aegon is not as cruel or as quick to anger as father and Viserys.” Daenerys murmured, staring at the floor.

The Queen seemed surprised by the information. “When has Aegon been cruel to you? I have heard nothing of Aegon’s temper.”

“Not often. Rhaenys and I don’t mention it because he always feels so terrible afterwards.” The Queen was obviously unhappy with this revelation. “He has only struck us a few times, mostly he yells and threatens.”

“Aegon struck you?! And his sister.”

“Nowhere as often as Viserys from when we were younger. Less than once every couple of years, just when he is extremely angry and cannot control the dragon.” Daenerys felt like a snitch.

“Daenerys why did you never say? Do you think I would have ever allowed your father to betroth you to Aegon if I knew he had harmed you? Even once?” Daenerys’ shrug was like a slap in the face of the Queen. “I would have fought your father on it. I will not have you live such a life.” The Queen was without words.

“Was Jon very angry?” Daenerys wanted to avoid thinking about Aegon and their future. She did not wish that devastation, she wanted light, so she asked about what gave her joy, her Black Cell Boy.

“Of course not. Jon was not at all angry, he was worried he had offended you.” Arthur reassured the princess. “Well, no, actually he was angry.” Arthur’s feature turned thoughtful. “Jon was very angry.”

Daenerys eyes filled with tears as Arthur watched her. “Oh.”

“Very angry at himself – not you Daenerys – for causing you pain and making you cry. Not every man must rage at women when there is conflict. Prince Rhaegar never raised his voice to a lady or any woman. Jon’s fire is tempered by his ice.”

“I am glad he wasn’t angry at me, I thought maybe he hated me for speaking against him.” The princess brightened. Arthur furrowed is brow at the drama teenagers could work themselves into; hate for opposing words?

“Lovely, so he is not angry with the princess. What happened to the boy?” Barristan appeared to be getting irritated by the youthful angst, which Arthur thought was bizarre for Barristan, what had changed him?

“He went to follow and realised the guards outside would stop him, so he retrieved his harp and was returned to his cell, I believe.”

“What was happening with the young sellsword?”

“Oh, mini Barristan?” Arthur grinned at his older comrade, and chuckled when Barristan grimaced. “He wasn’t allowed to follow immediately, so he came back with me … to ‘converse’ about his prince.”

“Do you understand the ‘My Prince’ reference? Why does **he** refer to the boy like that?”

“I do not understand why **he** says that.” Barristan nodded at Arthur’s words, and Arthur thought the old knight had new knowledge. “Now however he seems agitated and is concerned about the boy’s wellbeing, because of the House guards’ strange behaviour of refusing him to follow Jon.”

“It does not seem so strange of behaviour … I suppose though this sellsword would know more about regular behaviours in Meereen than we.” Barristan stood silent for a moment. “I must say though, I too have an ill feeling tonight. We should go collect the sellsword’s prince, my queen I have a feeling timing is important.” The Queen nodded, and helped her daughter up, retrieving a cold cloth she pressed it to the girl’s face to alleviate some of the evidence of her tears.

As the party had gathered themselves ready to leave the doors burst open with a frantic looking Geron stepping across the threshold. “He’s been abducted! Jon is gone!”

“What?!” Arthur was the first to react.

“I just went down to his cell, the guards do not know where he is. His clothes from this evening are in a pile beside his splintered harp. It appears he was taken after changing back into his slave garb, because the seneschal had left him to change to be taken to the Great Master and when he returned, he found what I did. An empty cell, with the discarded clothes and no Jon. And his harp. His harp … it is a ruin!” Of course, Geron was not to know the harp’s destruction was at Jon’s own hands, the ruination of the instrument looked like a terrible omen for the lad.

“How can this be? He is their bloody Champion, they keep him in this pyramid for this very circumstance.” Arthur was livid, Jon was his responsibility, he had made oaths.

“He isn’t their Champion anymore, not after our negotiations tonight.” Queen Rhaella felt sickened by the thought of how close they had come to freeing Jon, only to have him stolen away.

“What negotiations Mother?” Daenerys still hadn’t been enlightened on the details of the plan to free or ‘buy’ Jon, so she was unsure what stage the plan was at.

“The negotiations to take such a dangerous slave off the Great Master’s hands and save his family from destruction. The disgusting mockery of your brother’s death gave us an enormous advantage, a gift from the Gods to drive down his price by the immensity of the insult to our House. I thought our talks would take days until the Master would agree to even sell him before that travesty today. All it took was a few very intense hours.”

“Mother do you mean Jon is free?” Daenerys’ joy lit up her features like fireworks. Her eyes sparkled with hope.

“Well he was nearly free until he was abducted.” The Queen was annoyed. “Now the Great Master can just ignore his loss and laugh at his great luck that this happened after he sold Jon.”

“Not true your grace.” Geron interjected. “You have not given payment and he has not given you the whip.”

“What whip?” Arthur’s voice rose in anger.

“A symbol the Great, Wise and Good Masters use in Slavers Bay to signify the ownership of a slave. The fighters wear no collars or chains, neither do the Unsullied, so to show the sale and transfer of ownership of such a slave, the Old Master must give the new owner a symbolic –sometimes not so symbolic – whip. It must be presented in front of said slave or slaves, so they know who owns them. Saying that, Jon is still Great Master Wazir’s slave, therefore his problem. Just imagine the shame to his House if he loses his Champion from his own pyramid, just after having arranged a very profitable sale.”

Rhaella relaxed a little with the information given by the young lord. She looked critically at the young man before her, his walk was no longer the swagger of a sellsword but the stride of a knight or Lord; he stood straight and proud now, gone was the slight dip of his head. Geron was taller than she had first thought; golden hair flowed to just below his shoulders and his green eyes shone like emeralds, he was a very handsome youth and somehow familiar. He wore noble garb of red with gold highlights but no emblem or sigil.

“Sir Geron may I ask a question of you?” The queen was the picture of courtesy.

“Of course, my lady.” Geron returned her courtesy. “It would be my honour to answer your question.”

“Is Geron your name or your House?” Geron looked somewhat uncomfortable by the queen’s question.

“Well your grace, that is a long story, but it is my name, I have no House.”

“Yet you claim Knighthood. Are you a hedge knight?” For a hedge knight to claim the title of ‘Sir’ was a great insult to the full knights, like the two kingsguard. Though neither knight looked insulted yet, the answer to this question could change sentiments.

“I am a full knight and a trueborn son of my House.” Geron responded with an edge to his voice. “I claim not their name because my father was bereft of the knowledge of my mother’s pregnancy by my grandfather’s petty cruelty, if you must know your grace. My father does not know of me or what became of his wife – my mother – after my grandfather sent her away. I will meet the man one day and tell him, if he accepts me and claims me then will I claim my House and not before.”

“But you wear their colours even now Lordling Lannister.” Geron did not look surprised at her deduction. The kingsguards and Daenerys did look slightly surprised though.

“I am no Lion yet my lady and may never be, I however am a true born son and that makes them **my** colours. Whether I am claimed or not.”

“From what little I have seen of you I think Lord Tywin would be overjoyed to claim you into his House and make you one of the heirs of his family, even Casterly Rock is up for contention I hear. Who knows how far you can go?”

“What do I care what would bring to Tywin Lannister? He is a traitor to the throne and the Realm. Not to mention a black-hearted father.” True hatred could be heard in Geron’s voice, a strange sound to his usual joyous tone. “Casterly Rock and House Lannister can crumble to dirt for all I care.”

Barristan listened sadly to the young man’s scorn towards his own heritage. “There was only one Lannister that was proven to definitely be a traitor …” Barristan and Arthur both dropped their heads at the thought of their fallen brother, “… and he lost his head for it.”

Geron’s face flashed through sadness and anger. “I have no more sympathy for him than his father. Although his reasons for his attempted treason may have been noble, he failed, and he too held too much faith in his father and was also lost to Lord Tywin’s arrogance and ambition. Just because only Sir Jaime paid the price does not mean Tywin was any less treacherous, probably more. Who else would have convinced Sir Jaime to break his oaths than the black-hearted Tywin or his harpy daughter Cersei?” The adults gazed at Geron curiously as they processed his words.

“I think you do Lady Cersei a disservice. Many women endure unsavoury marriages for their Houses.” Queen Rhaella looked with sad eyes to her daughter, worried Daenerys would be another generation to endure one.

Daenerys did not seem so dumbfounded by him as her elders. “I have only met your father a few times but I believe he’d really like you Sir Geron, he doesn’t seem to revere Lord Tywin either and he definitely shares your low opinion of his sister Lady Cersei, I however agree with my mother there is another shielded side to your aunt.” Rhaella turned to regard her daughter, “I really like Lord Tyrion, he is an amusing little man. The cleverest man I know.”

“Lord Tyrion …” Rhaella turned to look Geron up and down.

“Just because my father is a dwarf doesn’t mean I had to be one.” Geron said with a smile, a smile that the three adults suddenly recognised as a mirror of the mentioned Lord Tyrion’s.

“Well then, I believe you will have no troubles with your father claiming you upon our return to Westeros after we get the boy back. Especially as it will irk Lord Tywin that the son he has shunned so, has produced such a fine heir to his House.” Barristan said to reassure the knight.

“Tyrion will enjoy years of rubbing both his father and his sister’s stuffy noses in it. **Every** time he sees them, or you achieve some glory; Tyrion will even send ravens just to make sure they have heard and haven’t forgotten that you are **his** son.” Arthur had a huge grin on his face. “You wouldn’t have even needed to be true born, he would say you were and claim you as such to torture his relatives. The man loves his House, cannot stand the people in it.”

“Sounds lovely.” Though he did not sound as if those words were true. “Sir Barristan makes a point though. Our priority is Jon. We must find my prince.” Geron took a more authoritarian tone. “He has been missing to his people and his destiny for too long.”

“We must discuss this ‘my prince’ thing when we have recovered Jon.” Sir Arthur Dayne’s tone sounded ominous to Daenerys but Geron just smiled at him.

“We **will** have to discuss this ‘my prince’ thing …” Geron let his words hang in the air.

It seemed Rhaella’s acting for the evening was not done, she walked into the Great Master’s audience chamber with a large smile and a delighted demeanour to be surprised by his frantic one, she kindly asked what was troubling him then exploded like a volcano when told he had lost Jon. She ranted and raved at top volume, even pulled out a few of Aerys best explosions for the man and told her knights to cut him down for this blatant betrayal and trickery.

Great Master Wazir tried to trick the queen into believing Jon was now her problem, he did not need to find him, and if Geron had not informed her of the truth of it she may have bowed to that lie but luckily she had entered the room fore warned and armed against that ploy. She said if the slave was hers, then where was he? Wazir had not given him over to her, if fact he was supposed to be doing that right now.

“You will find the man and present him to me, or you will not see one coin of the payment I have promised you. Not only that, I will personally write a letter informing his family who last had possession of their heir.” Rhaella growled as she left the room.

“He is not going to search for Jon.” She said to her party once they got back to their apartments. “Truthfully we have no leverage to make him do it either.” They were halfway across the world and she doubted if she asked, Aerys would send any aid.

“If only the threat of the boy’s family were real.” Barristan sighed.

“Where did you come up with the ruse, Mother?” Daenerys found it quite solid for a story.

“I did not.”

“Yet…” Again, to Daenerys it seemed very solid for a spare of the moment tale.

“Your father would tell Rhaegar the story every night before he went to bed.”

“Father barely tells stories.” The King had barely told her any stories anyway.

“Rhaegar got the same on every night.”

“Of a missing prince?” That was a strange tale to tell your son.

“I should know it word for word. I do not. There was a mighty king who lived in a Fortress of Ice and Winter. He travelled south to a land of Summer and Fire to find himself a queen and although he thought he had found a girl to love, her father refused to let her be his bride, so he lifted his eyes and found a girl he loved with all his heart.” Rhaella looked at her daughter. “I remembered that because I wanted love in marriage.”

“What happened next?” Daenerys found it fascinating, because it was a connection to her deceased brother and to her father when he was sane.

“He took his fire girl back to his ice fortress and he loved her deeply, one day she returned to her lands with his son growing in her belly. She never returned and the King raged, vowing to seek his missing son until his last breath, to bring both Fire and Ice down upon the realms that stole his son.”

“And you just added the birthmark Jon has to make it appear it was him?” It was a brilliant addition, and it served them well, Daenerys hoped she would be as intelligent of a queen when she was one, when she was Aegon’s. She frowned that she must be Aegon’s queen, because she could not picture her life lived beside Aegon. She dreamed it was lived beside Jon, not because he was handsome of face but because he was handsome of spirit.

“No, your brother used to doodle that symbol everywhere, saying he needed his father to know it was him when he came south to steal him from Summer. He stopped saying that when he was eight, but until then he doodled it everywhere.”

“Rhaegar doodled a symbol that turned up as a birthmark on Jon?” Daenerys gazed at her mother, though in truth she gazed through her. That could not be coincidence. Daenerys’ turned to gaze at Geron, his _prince_.

“Mysteries are strange. They say the Dragon blood gives us prophecies.”

* * *

They stayed out of sight as much as his abductor could arrange. It was strange to think that he had lived in this city for almost half a year but had never walked its streets. He had seen more in the last hour than in all the months he’d dwelled here. They were avoiding people in the event they would recognise the famous gladiator. There was however one individual they could not avoid, a shadow who had trailed them from the Pyramid.

“Halt.” The tone was authoritarian, but the voice was soft and warm. The guard stopped as if held by the voice. The woman for it was obvious from the way the blue silken wraps clung to her form in the breeze the person was female, came forward to touch Jon’s cheek. “Have faith in _thyself_. Dwell not in _Darkness_ for you will bring the _Light_ we need to this dark world.” He could not see most of her silk wrapped face, but he saw two soft blue eyes full of love staring out at him, and a long raven braid hung over her shoulder and touched the sands. “The world may seem _cold_, but there is a _fire_ deep within you that will keep you forever _warm_.” She spoke some of her words with whispered emphasis. “_Go_ _conqueror_ the _world, Champion_.”

The woman stepped back into the shadows and the guard moved Jon out of the gates to a mercenary encampment just beyond the wall he gazed up at their banners the books Queen Rhaella had sent him in his Black Cell, told him these were the banners of the Gold Company, begun by Bittersteel, one of the nine great bastards of Aegon the Unworthy. What did the Gold Company want with him?

The scarred guard led Jon to the largest tent and lifted the flap revealing a well lit furnished interior, he dragged his hostage in and when they got to the centre of the tent he walked behind Jon to kick the back of his knee to bring him down. Jon’s knees buckled at the impact and he sank onto them in the sand that was the floor, facing a heavy chair which currently stood empty. Jon felt a breeze on his back as the flap he’d just entered through opened again as a new person entered, they must have been small as the footsteps were light and hardly made a sound.

When the newcomer came around to sit in the chair, they were indeed slight of build and from the sway of their hips they were female, only an inch or two taller than the princess. Jon frowned as he remembered Princess Daenerys fleeing with tears in her eyes. The woman removed the scarves around her face and head to reveal long silver hair and sapphire blue eyes, her face was beautiful, and she reminded him of the Princess. But her face was harsher, sharper featured, where Daenerys was soft and her eyes seemed large and liquid, this girl’s seemed hard and shadowed, somehow there seemed a familial resemblance.

Jon thought this girl was very beautiful, though he could not help adding _But Princess Daenerys is exquisite._

She smiled as she gazed down at the young man. “The tales of your handsomeness do not do you justice.”

“Thank you, I have not heard them though so I cannot speak to their truth.” He was unsure how to answer her compliment.

“I can speak to their truth, and they do not explain you at all. Believe me Champion of Meereen you exceed all expectations.” She stared at Jon in a fashion he did not feel comfortable with at all.

“Why am I here?” No use sneaking around it.

“Oh, and the tales of your courage I see also are not wrong. A man in chains on his knees and he has no fear to speak plainly and ask his questions.” Her smile widened and she sounded amused.

“Which the Lady did not answer.” Jon’s defiant streak was returning, either that or he no longer cared for his life after having hurt his Girl of Honey and Roses.

_ She is not my anything, she is the Princess who smells as lovely as a princess should_. The scarred guard raised his arm to strike the young man, Jon did not flinch. The woman raised her own hand in a gesture of ‘cease’, as she laughed; it was not as light and musical as the Princess’ but it was a nice sound.

“I have great plans. Those great plans include you. That is why you are here to fulfil my plans.”

“I am but a fighting slave. I cannot fulfil great plans.”

“So humble. You are The Champion of Meereen, you are not ‘but a’ anything. I hear tell today you won the Battle of the Trident.” Jon rolled his eyes, he knew that sham of a battle would be trouble for him. “Even a great Targaryen Prince could not achieve that.”

Deep down something in Jon’s blood boiled at that last statement. He had been tortured his whole life because of that day, that battle, that defeat but his anger was not for what he had suffered, it was for the loss of that defeated prince, Jon always felt strangely drowned by his misery for that event. He had always dreamed about it too, even when he was tiny. The crushing head pain; the ringing ears; then the crushing pressure on his lungs as his ribs cracked; the terrible cold darkness as he sank below the surface and the feeling of utter despair and loss.

“He faced far greater numbers and far more dangerous terrain. He faced an army I only faced fourteen.” He was compelled to defend Prince Rhaegar, as in truth he had been compelled to defeat the Baratheon and regain the Prince’s honour in the Pit today.

“Again, so humble. Two against fourteen is no simple feat. Rhaegar may have faced an army but he also had an army. You should not dismiss your victories so quickly or easily. Embrace your greatness dear prince.”

_ Had an army. Why then did they not save him?_ He wondered sadly. But he had to combat this silly tendency of people calling him a prince right now, not wonder why a man was dead.

“I am not a prince, it was a character. A stupid, silly, ridiculous character. If you put a crown on my head, it would no more make me a king than that costume made me a prince!”

Her voice went cold and emotionless as did her face. “If I put a crown on your head it would make you a king.” Jon was slightly taken aback by her response, especially the dramatic sound to it. Then she suddenly smiled, “Would you like to be a king, Jon?”

“No.” He did not hesitate in his reply.

“So quick to deny himself a crown.” She seemed to be talking to the air. “What if you didn’t have a choice?”

“Still no.” Jon’s voice was firm. “What would I want a crown for? Where would I want to be king of anyway?”

“A crown for revenge on those who have oppressed you. Those that have denied you your destiny and your rightful place in this world. Revenge for all that has been taken from you and all that has been denied you. All you lost and all you never had.”

“Revenge is no viable reason to wear any crown. If I never had it then I do not miss it. No one can deny someone their destiny for it is theirs and cannot be taken for it will always come to them.”

“How wise. As to where. The World. However, let us begin with Westeros and the Seven Kingdoms.” Jon burst out laughing, the girl did not look pleased at his laughter. “What is so funny?” she demanded.

“I thought you said The Seven Kingdoms.”

“So?”

“As in the Iron Throne.”

“Yes!”

“Well,” Jon had to take a deep breath, “I’ve seen that throne. It is bloody ugly.”

The girl could not help herself from smiling at the comment. “I don’t expect you to marry it, just sit on it.”

“Oh well then sure. Let us do that shall we.” Jon had stopped laughing, but his voice had lost none of its amusement. His smile was dazzling and the girl found it disarming to gaze upon causing her to glance away. “I have your solemn vow now though, I will not have to wed the ugly chair.” She turned her attention back to the kneeling man glaring at him.

“You can strike him now.” She spat at the scarred guard.

Jon laughed. “So much for being a King.” Again, she raised her hand to stop the brute from striking Jon.

“Why do you mock my plans?”

“Well…” Jon looked perplexed. “… my lady, perhaps if I knew your name, I could get more invested in your insane scheme.”

“Insane scheme! What makes it insane?” She appeared offended by his words, but he noted she did not tear up or run away like his princess.

_Stop that! Daenerys is **not** your princess Jon. Stop thinking about her like that. Stop thinking about her all together._

“The Targaryens sit the Iron Throne. King Aerys has two healthy, if not stupid male heirs and two intelligent female heirs. Also, the last rebellion failed miserably, and they were at least on the right continent. Robert Baratheon had five of the ‘Kingdoms’ mostly on his side and still failed. Not to mention Baratheon even killed the best heir Aerys had and lost in the end. No offense but how from here, with no great lords as supporters do you plan to take and keep the Throne from the Targaryens and then place a nobody on it? You’d do better to convince Viserys or Aegon to overthrow the Mad King.”

“You just said Viserys and Aegon were idiots, why would I want an idiot as **my** king?”

Jon’s eyes narrowed as he heard the emphasis on the word ‘my’. This girl wanted a man to sit the Iron Throne so she could be queen – she for some reason had set him up to be her shield in her mind.

_No way!_

“So, what is your name Lady Blackfyre?” His face was straight.

“See how smart you are my dear Jon.” She smiled broadly, as if proud she had chosen herself an intelligent partner. A worthy king for her plans. “My name is Visenya, as in the Queen of Aegon the Conqueror.”

“You look great for a 300 plus year old Queen, must be the Dragon Blood.” Visenya laughed. “There is an unmarried Aegon that inherits the Irone Throne when Aerys dies, just marry Crown Prince Aegon and kill his grandfather and then you can be queen without excessive bloodshed.”

“Oh, but Crown Prince Aegon is betrothed.”

“Really? Well I suppose you will have to be quick.”

“Or assassinate Princess Daenerys.”

“What?!” Jon could not control his surprise. “Why?”

“That is who Prince Aegon is to marry. Though I do not know what either of them think of that.” Jon was silent, he tried not to show the hurt that information caused him.

_Princess Daenerys is Aegon’s princess, silly boy Jon._

“Well with the name Visenya surely you are fated to be the Queen of an Aegon. The fates will provide your king to you without you having to assassinate some innocent girl.” Daenerys may be Aegon’s princess but that wouldn’t stop Jon saving her or trying to, one last service to the Girl of Honey and Roses.

_ Why had she not said anything?_ Jon laughed at himself. _Why would she?_

“But the Fates have provided me with a king…” Visenya smiled at him but he still looked confused, “… you.”

Jon sighed. Obviously, the silly mock battle had confounded everyone’s senses; it was amusing from Geron, but this girl was a step too far. “I am not a king, or a Prince, or a Lord or anybody. I have no interest in toppling the Targaryen dynasty or creating a new one. I just want a life without chains or cells, not one with crowns and thrones.”

“What if you were destined for a life with crowns and thrones?”

“I wasn’t. Now either let me go; send me back or lock me up. I have had a long day and I really have no interest in prolonging it with this absurdity.” Jon felt the exhaustion of his active and emotional long day and wanted the escape of sleep.

“So commanding for a fighting slave.” Visenya smirked at him now, but he did not bother to answer or prolong the conversation. Say whatever she liked Jon was done for the day and stared blankly at her. After several minutes his stubbornness won out over her and she sighed disappointed. “We will find you a place to rest Champion and we will continue this in the morning. I will convince you, have no doubt of that.” She waved her hand and the scarred guard dragged Jon up and out of the tent.

Visenya was disappointed, she had thought from what she had heard of the tortures visited upon the man known as Jon Snow at the hands of the Mad King Aerys Targaryen that he would jump at the chance for retribution. He had seemed the perfect vessel to channel her own hatred of Targaryen arrogance into. Yet having met him, Jon seemed strangely at peace with it all. She felt a small amount of self-chastisement, that why was she so angry at House Targaryen that had actually done nothing to her personally, when Jon Snow appeared forgiving of them. Had those few minutes spent with him been enough to sway her even a little?

Visenya decided Jon was a very dangerous man. The very reason she had found him perfect for her plans was also the way he could unravel them. Jon was a born leader, the sages/prophets said the world would bend the knee as he strode the earth and she could see why. It was almost magical the way his words made sense, even when diametrically opposed to your own.

The other attribute that made him dangerous was his appearance. How could any woman be alive and deny him? Visenya sighed deeply, she had been told he was a handsome man, that women were offering large sums to be intimate with him, but she had not expected his true visage or the effect it had on even her. She could not pin down exactly what it was that made him seem so alluring, so undeniably glorious to behold. Part of it had to those dark serious eyes, she closed her eyes and saw them looking at her, then she felt herself shiver with the thought of him looking at her. If she could get him to agree to her plans she would have a very pleasurable life, she was sure.

Her plan had been simple: marry the boy; use his past to make the Lords of Westeros tear down the Mad King; make him king and have the Blackfyre’s finally sit the Iron Throne through their children. She did not plan to care for her husband, he was only a means to an end, her path to being Queen. Then she met him, and he was glorious and then he was intelligent and wise, commanding and humble. Worst or best of all he was noble and kind. How could she think herself better than the Targaryens if she callously used him as her pawn? She couldn’t, but she had to, she was the last heir remaining to the Blackfyre line, she was her bloodlines last chance. She had to win Jon over to her side, make him want to make her a queen.

It all started tomorrow. Tomorrow she embarked on the greatest battle of her life, the battle for Jon Snow’s heart.

“My Lady.” The scarred man returned to her tent interrupting her musings.

“Durk.” The man looked gruesome, but his soul was good, well half decent. “How did he settle in?”

“I tied his feet to the tent pole.”

“Why?”

“I have seen him fight. I worry that anything short of burying half of him will not be able to hold him.”

“He is quite amazing.” She breathed with more emotion than she should have. Durk grumbled. “Jealous?”

“No. I am not your lover.” He rumbled.

“How hard was it getting him out?”

“Not so much once I had him, I had removed all the guards on the way in and he followed without too many questions.”

“I would think he would fight to stay in the cosy pyramid.”

“We slaves find one set of chains much like the next.”

“You are no longer a slave, Durk.”

“We are all slaves to something, you to your family’s desires to rule.”

“We should rule. Daemon Blackfyre’s mother was the sister of King Baelor, she deserved the throne before King Viserys after Baelor’s death and he was King Aegon’s firstborn.”

“Maybe King Aegon should have married his princess then.”

“Aegon was an unworthy king and father.”

“And everything else if you speak right.”

“Jon would be a good king, I think.”

“He said no.”

“I will convince him as I said.”

“I think not.”

“I will.” She snapped at the man.

“How?”

“Maybe I will seduce him, crawl into his bed naked.”

“He is tied to a post, he has no bed.”

“Then I will just stand before him naked and he will succumb. I am one of the most beautiful women in the world you know.”

“Yes, but today he saw one more beautiful than you Lady Vy.”

“How can that be? I am every brilliant facet of Valryian beauty.”

“But you look hard from your angry life.”

“Still there would be few to match me. Who could he have seen?”

“Princess Daenerys of Westeros.”

“Princess Daenerys. What is she doing here?”

“From the look on her face as she watched the Champion battle, falling in love.”

“She is betrothed to Crown Prince Aegon.” Visenya looked confused. “Durk, why did it take you so long to return? If Jon did not fight.”

“He had an audience to play with the Princess. Set up by her mother, the Queen.”

“To play with?” That was worrying.

“Or for. What does it matter? She maybe betrothed to Aegon, but I think she will dream of the Champion. And she is extremely lovely, so maybe he fell in love himself.”

“I thought you said I was the loveliest maid in the world.”

“I said you were the loveliest woman, not maid, because we both know you are no maiden. Also, that was before I saw the princess, you are the second loveliest.”

“Jon is not that easily impressed.” He had not been with her, but then he had seen Daenerys only hours ago.

“Also, I got the impression he has met the princess previously.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing. But he did live in her house for 15 years, surely they met.”

“He was in the dungeon, not where princesses go.”

“Alright, but when he stepped on the sands she stood as if seeing a long lost love. He may not have known who she was, but he has met her, and she was happy to find him alive. With the reuniting I think a love rekindled in the girl.”

“That is why he was upset at the idea of me assassinating her.”

“I think he was more hurt by the knowledge she was Aegon’s bride than you assassinating her.”

“Is that what you think?”

“He closed his eyes as if he had been stabbed at that. After all, why should he worry about you assassinating her, he could easily stop you from killing her. No, losing the girl hurt.”

“My plans could be ruined. If he cares for her…”

“Loves her.”

“Cares for her, he will not topple her father.”

“Or he would marry her instead.”

“Shut up!” Durk shrugged and walked out of the lady’s tent, he would go stand watch outside the Champion’s tent, he was sure the man would not attempt escape, but he had seen the mercenary that fought beside him in the battle before. He commanded the Mercenary corp, The Blades. They were dangerous and they did not un-sheath their legendary blades for anything less than a fortune. Why was his drawing blood in a fighting pit?

* * *

In this turbulent time, a request came to the Pyramid of Wazir, a request that brought great honour to the Master’s House. He was called to the Great Pyramids of the Grace, for an audience with her, before her centre and main Pyramid. None were allowed to enter any of her three Pyramids: Might, Magik (the Greatest) and Faith. So, she met him on the steps, dressed as always in her blue silken wraps with their gold dragon, wolf, sword and circle embroidered trims. Her face covered for none were worthy to look upon her divinity; only her eyes visible and her pale brow. One long raven braid hung over her shoulder and touched the ground woven with gold, black and blue ribbons.

“Master Wazir.” The woman was beautiful with her eyes of pure sapphires and hair the colour of obsidian.

“Our benevolent Grace.” He bent his head low, this woman was the most sacred person in all the city of Meereen. It was a great honour that she had left her temples to visit him, her feet never touched unsanctified ground, anywhere she walked was made sacred.

“You dishonour us.” Her soft tones still spoke of her anger.

“Never!” He would not, he like all Meereen revered this woman, there was a mythos that she was ancient beyond imagining, and although few truly believed it, she exuded a sense of ancient peace and knowledge. Every man and woman knew if a child was born with her features they were taken to the Sacred Pyramids and raised to be her handmaidens. Many suspected but would not speak the idea that one of those children must replace her, regularly.

“Still you put your Champion in the Pits **again**, and you refuse to search when he is lost.”

“He is but one slave and he is not mine any longer.”

“You dishonour us.” She spoke softly but there was stone in her voice. “Princess Daenerys has agreed to pay a grand ransom for this boy, and you will not deliver what you promised.”

“She has not paid anything yet.”

“Then he is _still_ yours to find. Find the Dragon of Winter or we will all burn. The King has sent assassins searching for his kin, next come the Dragons.”

“There are no Dragons left in this world.”

“There are. One fights in a pit and one sat at your table last night. She is small but she is spectacular. If you dishonour us, I will call the armies of my father and they will curse your people.” She turned and walked back into her pyramid.

First Daughter had been quiet the entire conversation, struck mute by the Grace. “Would it hurt to help the Targaryens, Father?”

“Why should we? They have shamed us before the entire city, and they stole my Champion.”

“Mayhaps we should have done more research before making such a faux par.” His daughter was quite wise for her age, too bad his son, her younger brother would rule their family after him. “Mayhaps we should have been more vigilant.”

“How could I know they were going to steal him?”

“How could we gaze at that mark on his shoulder, and not see the ancient symbol we all know? Pretend what you will Father, we have seen it close, we knew he was special. That mark is the real reason you bought him; you have heard his true name.”

“He is not a missing prince.”

“What word would you prefer? Emperor?” First Daughter walked away from her father then, he had skated by on luck in regard to the Champion for too long. Now he would have to pay some recompense. The Grace had warned them to care well for the one that would bring them great fortune. Their time of caring for him was not done.

There was an urgent knocking at the apartment doors. Rhaella opened them with every bit of strength she had, the loss of Jon so close to having him free was rattling on her nerves. It was a very distraught looking Master Wazir with a slightly less bedraggled First Daughter.

“Queen Rhaella.” Wazir quivered. Rhaella raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him and his voice disappeared.

“Your Grace.” First Daughter continued for her father. “We are aware this is an unusual situation. We should be exchanging items at this point, you the payment and us The Champion. We however do not have our part and I would guess in truth you could not present yours immediately either.”

“Which is of no concern as you have lost the commodity I was purchasing.” Rhaella’s voice could not be mistaken for anything but that of a queen.

“I would remind you, that it was in fact Princess Daenerys that it was agreed was purchasing the Champion.” First Daughter had the tone of a business woman.

“I was?” Daenerys asked surprised.

“It was to be a surprise for you dear.” Rhaella took her daughter’s hands. “Compensation for having to marry Aegon.”

“Mother.” Daenerys gasped shocked. If Daenerys had any idea of this fact, she would live in Essos forever never returning to be Aegon’s wife. She would save up to have Ghost sent over and she would live free and happy with Jon and Ghost forever.

“So, it has been reminded to my father that we must honour our responsibilities and cares for the Champion as he is still ours to care for, and we will and have sent men to investigate his disappearance. We will keep you updated on any information we receive. Of course during this time you will remain our honoured guests and we will fulfil any requirement you wish of us.”

“That is the least you can do. We should be given a discount, for the wait.” Rhaella knew it was a stretch.

“You already are getting him at far too reduced a price!” Wazir was making little profit on this sale. With a quick look at his daughter and her sideways look he calmed.

“His father…”

“We are aware.” First Daughter spoke for her father. “We have been informed of his interests entering the city.”

“What have you been informed?” Geron asked First Daughter.

“He has dispatched assassins.” The Targaryen party looked concerned for them this was a ruse, but someone had made it very real for the Great Master and his Daughter. _Assassins?_

Geron turned quickly and walked to a corner of the room muttering to himself. When he turned back he had a determined look on his features. “We thank you for this information and request you do keep us well informed on the progress of your investigation of the Champions abduction. If you would give us some time to discuss our own plans regarding this.”

“Of course.” First Daughter bowed and backed out of the room, moving her father with her. As the door closed all eyes turned to Geron.

“Assassins?” Arthur spoke first.

“I did not think things would amp up so quickly, I thought they would give me more time.” He looked around at the worried faces. “We need to find Jon and quickly. They will back off, if and only if they know he is in sight of a known ally.”

“Which I am guessing could be you?” Barristan postulated.

“We cannot sit here and wait for Wazir to bumble around looking for him. We need to put our feet on the ground.”

“You cannot think to drag the queen all over Essos.” Barristan growled at the stupidity of the idea.

“Of course, he isn’t.” Daenerys said to defend Jon’s knight. “Geron, you will leave one of your men, that you obviously command from the arena yesterday with Barristan and Mother, here is Meereen. You, the rest of your men, Arthur and I will run all over Essos and get Jon back.”

“Princess…” Sir Barristan was about to question her when she turned to stare at him with more steel than he had ever seen in her.

“If I am going to pay all my inheritance to free that boy from the Black Cell, I will damn well go and free him! I will not sit in a cushioned chair!” She huffed and lifted her skirts to spin. “I need to change clothes, I cannot conqueror the world in this giant dress!”

Geron smiled at the rest of the room and winked at the queen. “What did I say? My Queen.” He pointed after Daenerys.

Geron called his Blades, chose to leave the Spearman with Rhaella and take the rest with Daenerys. It took some convincing and the advice that none of her clothes could be fitted to be tenable for her adventure so she had best sleep to be ready to buy the correct garb from the markets in the morning to get her to go to bed. The plan was set as the princess had set it. Barristan and the Blade would protect Rhaella and the rest went with Daenerys to rescue her Black Cell Boy.

* * *

“How did you sleep my king?”

“Well and it is Jon.”

“Not for long. Soon it will be King Jon.”

“I doubt it but dream as you may Lady Blackfyre, I am a slave and do not have the liberty to dream. Of anything.” He sounded forlorn and Visenya wondered if he was sad that she had told him Daenerys was Aegon’s bride.

“It is good you slept well we are leaving.”

“How many men do you have to escape the rage of the Great Masters and their ire that a famous slave was stolen?”

“We have many but only a small group will go with us.”

“Us?”

“Yes, my King, you and I are leaving immediately to avoid those that would seek you. I do not plan for them to place you back in their chains.”

“Oh, so I will just wear your chains.” He said looking at his manacled hands and feet.

“I will remove those as soon as we are away from this region.” She looked apologetic. “We will change your garb too, so you do not look like a fighting slave.”

“What kind of slave will I look like?”

“Maybe a pleasure slave,” she smiled seductively at him, “Would you like to be my pleasure slave Jon Snow?”

“No.” His face was serious.

“I could be a good and kindly Mistress to you.”

“I am sure you would, but I am not interested in staying in chains even soft silken ones.”

“As much as I would love to convince you how lovely my silken manacles could be for you, we must move. Durk get him ready to move.” The scarred guard came forward to do her bidding as she left the tent.

Visenya did not get far. She should have known it was not going to go smoothly. She sighed heavily wishing she could have escaped this conversation.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?!”

“What is necessary.” She said to the blue dyed haired knight.

“You are damaging Young Griff’s future.” Griff growled at her.

“You have had years to return him to his rightful place, if you will not take what is supposedly his, I will take what is mine!” She snarled back at him. It would have been simple as Jon had said last night to marry an Aegon and take the throne without all this intrigue and using of Jon.

But Griff had always treated Visenya like she was some tick attached to Young Griff’s back, when the Gold Company had followed her father and her after his death. She had grown loving Young Griff like a brother, and he loved her like a sister, but Jon Connington had always treated her like she was trash in comparison to the ‘real’ Targaryen. She hated this man. She would have help Aegon, Young Griff get his throne, but she would not help Connington and Connington was bound to want to ride Aegon right to the end.

So, it was that Young Griff and Visenya would be parting ways, after so many years growing together. Her men would ensure he would be safe, she had given orders, they were loyal. She had priorities though, she must go her own way, Jon would get her the Iron Throne, it may put her at odds with her once brother but life had never been easy for Visenya Blackfyre, she did not expect that to change.

Durk had Jon on a horse and ready to go, and Visenya was mounting up with the few men she was taking, when another blue hair man came to her horse, this one she would stop for. She looked down into his purple eyes soft and loving.

“You will not stop me.”

“Vy…”

“I have to go.”

“Vy, can you not wait even a day? Griff says I must meet this princess. I do not want you riding off into the desert alone.”

“Egg.” No one was close enough to hear her nickname and know his true name. “We are never going to get to Westeros if we never go west. I have Durk and five others of our best men I am not alone.”

“You are my only family, Vy.”

“That is not true you have real family, in Westeros, and Griff will never set your feet to return to them. I am going home. These are my first steps.” She kicked her horse, because she knew he would be able to convince her to stay, he was the only blood relative she had been able to cling to since her father died, he was her only family.

Jon saw the blue hair man’s forlorn gaze as the lady rode away, it was not passion, but it was a deep love that tore at him to watch her go. For a moment the blue haired man’s eyes met Jon’s and there was some recognition of something. Durk moved Jon’s horse and soon the small group was only a speck on the horizon.

“Forget Visenya, she was trouble.” Griff said from behind Young Griff’s shoulder.

“Easy for you to say, she wasn’t your sister.”

“She wasn’t yours either.” Connington reminded his prince.

“Except she was.” Young Griff knew his mother Princess Elia had sent word Princess Daenerys was in Meereen. He could meet her, and she was betrothed to the imposter pretending to be him so really to him, but it seemed all unimportant having just lost his sister, even if she really wasn’t. His family was just fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have not a lot of plans with this but decided to have some running around with Visenya and Geron in Essos fun for Jon and Dany before they return to Meereen, So they get to gel together  
Originally also wasn't going to have the sweet sibling thing between Visenya and Young Griff but it just flowed out. Now we are stuck with it.  
Also I don't like Jon Connington, I have no reason or explanation, just don't. I mean he is a good character, but I don't. I also have no reason for not being an Arya fan, but I wasn't, didn't hate her, but I never loved her either. I am weird.


	23. Princess Daenerys meets Prince Aegon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys is on a mission and is not impressed other people want her attention.  
Our Dany is smarter than the average Princess.

Daenerys Stormborm of House Targaryen was awake before the sun and she was dragging Sir Arthur Dayne out of the Pyramid to the market to buy her new attire before the sellers were even set up. As he rubbed his eyes, she asked him why he was he pointed at the barely there glow in the sky and she pointed at his sword.

“Dawn? Sword of the Morning?” Daenerys asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Your highness, morning and dawn are when the sun itself shows on the horizon, not just its glow.” Arthur answered the girl. “I know you are eager to get these garments so we can set off, but this is not going to be all fun.”

“I expect none of this will be fun until we find Jon and can remove whatever bindings they have on him.” Daenerys answered honestly.

“Princess, can I ask you a very personal question?”

“You can. As a princess I do not have to answer.”

“I understand initially Jon was a mystery and therefore exciting to discover, but why did you continue to pursue the mystery?”

“He was different. I cannot explain, I was drawn to be close to him, you know he is different. I expect there are other young men similar to Jon and different from my brother and nephew, but I believe Jon is still special. I just find him special. You won’t tattle on me will you Sir Dayne?”

“No Princess.”

“Sir Dayne, may I ask you a question?”

“You may. I am a Kingsguard, so I may not answer.”

“I know mother was using a ruse about a missing prince, but Geron seemed to speak as if maybe my father’s tale to my brother was real. Do you think Jon could be this missing prince, or a missing prince?”

“Or a prince?” Arthur could see what Daenerys was asking: Is Jon a viable option for her, could she choose Jon instead of Aegon?

“Well…”

“I could see how that would explain some of the mystery of the boy. Educated and guarded by elite guards, kept secret and safe for years. Well somewhat safe excluding your father’s insanity.”

“Always enigma.” Daenerys sighed.

“Just for you Princess, imagine Jon is a possible prince you could chose instead of Aegon.” Arthur said with a smile.

“That is not what I meant.” Daenerys looked everywhere but at Sir Arthur.

“But really it was, but I wouldn’t tell anyone, because I am a kingsguard and you are my princess.” He spoke quietly and looked directly forward.

“Thank you.” She said very softly.

“You need not mention it, for I will not.” He said just as softly. As he touched her elbow to indicate the seller she might need to see, seemed ready to sell their wares.

Daenerys did not haggle, and she listened to Arthur's advice on the best option for what she may require on her endeavour to regain her missing prince. He did not tease her but spoke as if Jon really was a lost royal, because ultimately, he was. He was impressed by her serious attitude about her upcoming endeavour, everything was done with diligence and discernment.

It seems Geron and his comrades had not sat idle while the Princess shopped either, they had been canvassing the streets for information and some of the beggars had happily freely given information for bread and cheese and a skin of wine. The Champion was famous and even in the dark of night in the back streets such a famous slave could not be moved totally unseen. A scarred man had moved him silently and chained outside the city, to an encampment of a sellsword company, a famous one in fact. The Golden Company.

They were still out there, but a small group had moved off at dawn. Griff, one of their Commanders was still there with his son, but Lady Vy, The Black Lady had left. Geron said they should go talk to this Griff fellow, even if Lady Vy had taken Jon, he may know where and why.

* * *

Griff was trying to determine a way to get an audience with Queen Rhaella when he was told he had company, Sir Geron Gold was here with his employer and they had questions for him about a slave. “What did I tell you?” He growled at Young Griff. “Vy is a fucking trouble maker.”

“Why are we still even in Essos? We could have gone home years ago.” Vy was right, House Targaryen had not fallen, Aegon did not need to be hidden for so long.

“Sir Gold.” The Soldier opened the flap.

“I do not have time for whatever questions you have about a slave of all things Gold.” Griff said without even looking at Geron and his employer. Aegon however saw a very beautiful girl standing slightly behind Geron Gold.

“Hail, Griff. May I introduce my employer, Princess Daenerys Targaryen.” Griff’s eyes snapped up to look at the girl.

“I am glad that got your attention sir.” Daenerys said insulted he had spoke so uncivilly at their entrance. Young Griff stood up immediately, Daenerys gave the handsome lad a quick glance and then glared at his father. “One of your men stole a slave from a pyramid last night, The Champion of Meereen. Now that would usually be of no concern, but I had just agreed to purchase said champion and that means you stole my property. I am not pleased.” She did not sound or look pleased at all.

“Slavery is illegal in Westeros.” Young Griff said, slightly offended his aunt had bought a man.

“I was going to free him, once he was mine, for I knew this slave from Westeros. So, you understand why I am so unimpressed that he was stolen.” She snarled at the lad. “Having travelled all this way and paid all that money.” Daenerys had no time for any of this banter Jon was getting further from her fingertips every second.

Aegon could see she was very displeased. For someone so small, she looked as if she could kill a man with a death stare alone.

“It was one of the other commanders of our company she has departed with him, we cannot help you.” Griff answered the princess. “However, if you could arrange for I and my protégé to see your mother, we could do you a greater service.”

“So, I come to you and ask you to help me, you refuse but expect me to gift you an audience with my mother?” Her voice said he was dreaming. “Sir Gold.”

“Yes Princess?” Geron was not sure where she was going but he was happy to see.

“Slit his throat.” Her voice did not waiver, she spoke with steady command.

“His men might take offense.”

“I took offense.” She stated coldly, she cared for nothing right now but getting Jon back, this man was in her way.

“Alright, it has been a whole day since my sword tasted blood, she has been a little thirty.” Geron took a step forward and the lad stepped before his ‘father’. “Should I kill him too?”

“Hmm, see he didn’t offend me.” Daenerys looked contemplative.

“Wait, please. My name is Aegon Targaryen.” Young Griff thought to sort this out with the truth, something he knew both their lives lacked.

Daenerys cocked her head to the side. “Really, because last time I saw you, you were taller and honestly less blue.” She should be shocked or taken back by his words, maybe arc up at the possible lie, because she was really not sure anything in life was true any more except how much it hurt to not know where Jon was and if he was safe. Now, with Jon missing this boy could say he was her brother Rhaegar and she would accept it and ask him to step aside she had a true love to find, if he didn’t mind.

“The Aegon you know is an imposter swapped soon after birth to save me from the sacking of King’s Landing.” Young Griff told his tale to save his guardian.

“What sacking?” Daenerys knew there was supposed to be one, but it never happened.

“There was supposed to be a sacking.” He also knew it never happened and also wonder why this hiding game had been so prolonged. He was a tad put off by her simple acceptance of his revelation, like he had not revealed some great secret conspiracy.

“But there wasn’t.” She shook her head once.

“Maybe we could discuss this with your mother, my grandmother.” Aegon just wanted to meet the queen, his grandmother, even if she rejected his tale.

“No.” Daenerys said without prejudice. “I am here for Jon Snow, I have no time for poor lost Aegons.” She sounded callous and this Aegon must have thought that of her by his reaction, she did feel badly for him, he did seem somewhat nicer than the one she left in Westeros.

“If we discuss this with grandmother, I might be able to help you with where Visenya took the slave.” He wondered who this slave was to the princess.

“Just tell me where she took him.” She gave no quarter, she was not here to save this boy, she was here to get her Black Cell Boy back.

“Aren’t you betrothed to Aegon of Dragonstone?” Perhaps he should reminded her what his revelation really meant.

“Yes.” She blinked at him liked that was of no consequence.

“So, if I am really Aegon, then you are betrothed to me.” He made a point, but that just made him an obstacle, and she decided to exact the punishment she wished on Aegon in Westeros on this slightly nicer one.

“You are right Geron, he has now offended me, slit his throat too.” She nodded at Blue Aegon.

“I am your nephew!” He squeaked.

“But I am only here to find Jon. Quite frankly I couldn’t care less about any Aegon true or false, blue or silver right now.” She expelled her exasperation in a very princess pout.

“How does the false Aegon love you?” Young Griff showed his own frustration at this princess.

“I don’t think he does. Pretty sure he just wants to tick a box.” Daenerys shook her head slowly, she found this Aegon much easier to talk to, she actually hoped his tale was true.

“Seriously?” Young Griff stepped back. “What a heel.”

“Yeah, he can be. I think he is sleeping with your sister too.”

“Yuck!”

“Look, I get it you want to reconnect with your family and I would love to help. But my priority is finding my friend. So, help me find Jon, I will introduce you to my mother and your mother and every other screwed up person in our family. I have not the time now however, as your sellsword fellow is riding further away every minute we natter.”

“The slave is a really good friend of hers.” Geron said.

“No.” Young Griff said firmly. “I will meet my Grandmother and then I will help you. Not before. My Fellow, is likely to kill me for helping you ruin her plans, so I would like to meet my grandmother before I die.”

“I cannot agree.”

“We will not be chasing that Blackfyre woman.” Griff said firmly.

“Do not speak about her that way!” Aegon commanded. “She is my only family.”

Daenerys looked at this blue haired lad and saw the passion he had for the ‘blackfyre’, maybe an Aegon like him, she may have loved enough to marry, but not with there being a Jon Snow in the world.

“If I introduce you to my mother, and you help me to regain my friend, then I will help you and your Blackfyre family member to find a place in House Targaryen. My father is mad but he does allow me some gifts, maybe your relative could be one of them. Especially as she is a girl and not a boy.” Daenerys spoke softly. She did not know if she had any power to influence her father, but if this lad thought she did then he would help her find Jon and Daenerys thought her mother would appreciate another grandson to love. Had this been the other she had spoken of? Daenerys did not think so.

“Thank you.” He took her hand and shook it. Griff however looked suspicious at her offer.

When they got outside, and Sir Arthur’s eyes landed on ‘Griff’ his eyes hardened. “Connington.” He growled and true hatred was heard in his voice.

“Where were you?” The blue-haired knight growled as he stepped towards the white clad kingsguard. “When Rhaegar needed you, where were you?”

“Where he wished me to be.” Arthur growled down into the other man’s features. “Protecting his future and legacy.” That made Daenerys give her attention to the near brawl, Arthur was in Dorne they say when Rhaegar was dying in battle, he returned only to the Red Keep when the king and remaining kingsguards fetched him and Lady Lyanna’s remains, along with a treasured egg. Daenerys never understood that part, what treasured egg was Arthur protecting in Dorne?

When also during that time was Arthur at Jon’s birth and where was Jon born? _Wait. Was Jon the Egg? Is Jon another Aegon? _Daenerys gazed at Arthur with his rage at Lord Connington, wishing to pull him aside and ask him the dreaded question, had she not escaped the dreaded Targaryen incest by loving Jon? That would explain so much, why he was kept in the Keep. Why her father could never quite finish the prisoner off, why her mother wept so many tears for Jon.

“Geron.” She could not ask Arthur, but Geron had another story, maybe one that could heal her heart as it started to crack. She pulled him aside as everyone tried to pull the Westerosi men apart.

“Princess.”

“Geron, Is Jon Rhaegar’s son?” Geron looked stricken for a moment as if he did not wish to answer the question. “Why do you call him prince?”

“Swear you will not reveal what I tell you.”

“I swear.”

“Be sure princess, because it has wide and dangerous consequences.”

“I swear.”

“You do not understand the danger.”

“Geron Lannister, will what you reveal mean that I am not in love with my own nephew?”

“Yes.”

“Then I swear.”

“Yes, Jon is the man you have heard of as Rhaegar Targaryen’s son. But Rhaegar was not who you think he was. Your mother may think it a ruse to push Jon’s price down, but I have met the Winter King who lost his wife and son and searches for his grandson, he sent me here to free Jon and bring him home.”

“Jon really is a missing prince?”

“He does not know and neither do many others. Your father does, but probably only your father.”

“How could he treat Jon like that if he knew?”

“King Aerion hates your father, but he says your father is insane not stupid, he knew if he could put Jon on the Iron Throne as his heir, he would have generations of strong Targaryen rule. Your father was looking forward but could not see what a mess he made now. That is what Aerion says. People underestimate your father.” Geron looked back at the blue Aegon. “I would guess, he even knows about him.”

“What could he have been thinking?”

“Once people knew Jon existed your father had to get him away, and Essos was as far as he could send him. Maybe he thought Aerion could scoop him up. I don’t know, your father is mad. You know, you may be the key to this whole thing.”

“Me? I doubt it.”

“Princess, you just told me you are in love with my prince.” She blushed red as if she had sat in the sun all day. “You cannot reveal you know he is what he is, he would not accept it yet anyway. Aerion could not possibly burn the Seven Kingdoms if his grandson is saved by a princess who loves him. He too was once an Ice Prince in love with a Fire Princess.”

“Jon does not love me.”

“Jon does not know what the emotion even is. Who knows what he will feel by the time he is returned to his grandfather? You are an amazing girl, I am sure you could capture any boy you want to.”

“Time to be a princess though.” She turned back to the near brawl. “Lord Connington, if you want to have an audience with my mother you will step back from my favoured knight, or I will have your beheaded and your body dumped in the canal, do so now.” Then she simply walked towards the city gates to Meereen. After she had made a distance between herself and the men, she called over her shoulder. “Come Sir Dayne! Stop playing with that dirty Sellsword, I do not want his filth to taint your lovely white armour.”

* * *

“Barristan you should have seen and heard our little princess, she was a warrior.” Arthur smiled with pride as he regaled Barristan to their princess’ show. He could not hide his pride, it shone off him.

Queen Rhaella was suspicious of this lad and his guardian, she obviously recognised Lord Connington, but she had many questions, which she apologised to the lad for having to ask. She touched his face tenderly and shook her head, saying she did not see her son in his features. Young Griff frowned, he had been rejected, she asked when Jon Connington had been given the child, how long was he in others hands, who had handed him over. Why had Jon Connington not returned him sooner.

Blue Aegon looked sadly at Daenerys, she could see he thought he was now the imposter. She looked to the kingsguards and Arthur stepped forward.

“My queen, this is Aegon, son of Elia.” Arthur knew what Oberyn and Doran had done to their sister.

“How can you know that?” Rhaella asked. Everyone else looked to Arthur with askance.

“I am a kingsguard and I know the king’s secrets.” He said with a steady voice.

“Explain yourself Sir Dayne.” Rhaella’s tone was one of displeasure.

“Your husband has kept many secrets from you, I do not know all of them. I know this one. Princes Doran and Oberyn of Dorne, took Aegon from his crib to protect him from the planned sacking of Kings Landing. They replaced him with a child of similar age and colouring. They said a son of a whore, I do not know. They sent the true Aegon to Jon Connington in Essos. This is Aegon son of Elia.”

“Elia… How could she?”

“She was not consulted and if she had not noticed as a mother would that her child was different, I do not believe her brothers would have told her ever. She has, I know due to her confidences with me, mourned his loss, and wanted his return. Been mystified why he has never been returned. I am guessing she sent you news the queen was coming to Essos and Meereen.” Arthur addressed Griff.

“She did.”

“Why has she...?”

“I believe she loves her false Aegon too.” Arthur spoke for the tortured princess. “Look closer, my queen, even if you cannot see Rhaegar, can you not see Elia?” So the queen rose to look up into the young man’s face. And there she saw Rhaenys and Elia, this boy may not hold Rhaegar, but he was still her family. She started to weep.

“I came here for one and I got two.” Few understood her meaning, but her heart was bursting with joy at this gift the gods were giving her. “I don not know how Aerys will handle this I must communicate this to him delicately. Even if he knows, he must not be surprised by it. Bring me something to write with.”

Daenerys headed off to retrieve what she needed. When she returned, her mother was already sitting ready to write.

“How will you start this letter to father?”

“Oh, I am not writing to your father, I am writing to Elia. I am telling her I am bringing her baby home, your father will read this and have his fit and I will not waste a sore hand in writing to him too.”

“What of the False Aegon?” Young Griff asked.

“Well, we wouldn’t be throwing him into the streets. He is my grandson, I will ask your mother’s advice and we will find a solution. Though, with all this confusion I should suggest we nullify your betrothal Daenerys, it is all too confusing now. I mean we have two Aegons; incest is bad enough but polygamy as well with husbands of the same name, insane and really your father is enough insanity for any family.”

“Excellent! I have a friend to rescue and I need to steal this Aegon. Can I call you Blue?” Daenerys was back on target, her prince.

“I don’t know if I like Blue.” Aegon screwed up his nose.

“Yet, you wear it on your head.” Daenerys pointed at his head.

“Visenya calls me Egg.”

“Hmmm, we will see which I settle on.” Daenerys headed out the door, to Aegon’s confused look. Geron headed after her and then Arthur.

“She really likes this slave.” Geron said to Aegon.

Daenerys’ head reappeared. “My favourite knight, doesn’t like you,” she pointed at Lord Connington. “You are not invited or required.”

“Favourite knight?” Barristan asked.

“Out of me and me.” Arthur soothed his fellow kingsguard. “I still think you are her favourite until Jon gains a knighthood.”

“So, I should think.” Barristan said with a shake of his head.

“My daughter is correct though Lord Connington.” Queen Rhaella eyeballed the man. “You are not required. You have served Rhaegar and House Targaryen well, but my husband the king exiled you. I will ensure you are well compensated for your service so you will never desire anything, but you cannot return to Westeros with us.”

“I am the only family that boy has ever known.”

“Apparently not. Apparently, there is a Blackfyre girl.”

“Will your husband be anymore accepting of her than of me?”

“As yet, she has not betrayed him in his eyes, and you have. Maybe he will be more kind to her. The King is mad, he will do as he will, my duty is to keep as many of those I love alive, I will not have Aegon whom you have just brought to me, cursed by association with you. It does not mean you will never see the lad again, just you can never go home. If you truly love him, you will let him go so he can.”

“She wants to be queen.”

“She will never be queen. She will grow to learn, being queen can be a curse more than a blessing if you choose the wrong king.”

“She has chosen a slave.”

“A good king, but she will not be his queen.”

“He is no one.”

“You know nothing, Jon Connington. You played with my son and learned nothing of the world in its true visage. You played legendary heroes, Rhaegar was a legend. Go write yourself a list of what you want your life to look like, so I may make it for you. Thank you for bringing my grandson to me, I am grateful.”

* * *

Geron and his Blades were well setup for desert travel and had to only purchase a few extras to add Daenerys and Arthur to their troop. Aegon had his own equipment and Geron had to admit for a Prince he was pretty down-to-earth and thought this Aegon was probably more Jon’s preferred sibling material to the ‘false’ one in Westeros. Daenerys found him far less grating on her nerves and he was not prone to rubbing up against her, which she appreciated greatly. By noon they were ready to set off.

* * *

The day after Daenerys headed into the desert with Egg as her guide, Master Wazir brought Queen Rhaella the news that a beggar had seen a scarred man leading the Champion out of the city the night of his abduction. She thanked him and closed the door, wondering if he would ever have found Jon for her, then as an after thought she sent her husband a message saying she needed a little extra coin for her trip and wrote the exorbitant amount at the bottom, secretly wishing she was there to see his reaction, she imagined a crapped up hand at least.

It brought a glow to her heart and a smile to her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe next Chapter some Jon  
I think - not written at all - definitely reunion of our lovers next chapter.


	24. Desert Breeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys gets to Know Aegon the Blue, better.  
Jon gets to know Visenya and her story.  
Aegon and Visenya have seen the world far more than Jon and Dany, they have seen enough to see the world is not great enough to separate the two Dragons when they reunite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want people to understand none of the people born during or after Robert's rebellion are bad people, they were all just born into bad circumstance, they grew in the moulds the war and their elder's made for them, even Viserys.

"What?!" Durk said irritated, the gladiator had been gazing at him all day and Durk was finding it disturbing.

"Nothing." Jon said as he shook his head.

"You are constantly watching me." Durk growled.

"Why are you so irritable, Durk?" Visenya asked, it was not like the man to be so grumpy.

"I think he has a tummy ache." Jon said, looking at the scarred man sideways.

"Why?” She asked Jon. “Do you?” she turned to Durk. “He has eaten exactly the same thing we have." Visenya looked to her prisoner because he was still refusing her advances and needed to be retrained.

"Not exactly. He did swallow a key, that must be sticking you bad, in the worst places." Jon looked sideways at the big fellow again.

"I am fine." Durk grimaced.

"Yeah, you sound in pain." Jon leaned forward in his saddle, to try to get a look at the front of the man. "I think we should stop and check it hasn't torn his gut."

"How would we do that? We don't have a maester." Visenya said with a great degree of concern in her voice. "Why would you swallow the key, Durk?"

"So, he didn't steal it and escape." Durk pointed at Jon.

"You could have just thrown it beyond my reach." Jon said to help him. Durk irritation however said he did not like Jon’s suggestion.

"Durk, that thing could rip your insides to pieces." Visenya stopped her horse in front of Durk's. She sighed. "We had better set camp; you can't ride with a key going through you. Yohan, ride to the next village or camp, find a healer, we need help for Durk. We are camping here until he passes this or you come back."

"What if searchers come for the Champion, while I’m gone?" Yohan did not want to leave his lady exposed, especial down one man, if Durk was considered injured.

"We will make a stand." Visenya said.

"Yohan, is it?" Jon asked, "I promise you I will protect your Lady Vy, even if they are here to rescue me. No woman will be harmed for me." Yohan looked torn, but as all the men looked surprised by Jon's words, Visenya nodded to Yohan that she believed him and to go. "Might I say though, if you removed the manacles, as I am wearing gold silks and painted leather, I would just look like one of your company and they would not even give us a second look."

"Decided you want be part of my plans, have we Champion?"

"No, but I also am not going to run happily back into slavery." Jon said as he jumped off the horse without help. He got some worried looks as his companions realised, they had not had him as secure as they thought. "Oh, and yeah, I could always do that." He grinned at them as he confirmed he had been more compliant than they had suspected.

All except Yohan dismounted and went about making camp and making a spot for their pained companion to lie. Jon could see by the manner in which Visenya fussed over Durk that she was not the emotionless, all-business woman, she made out to be, she showed her gentler side and that she also was not as old as she portrayed either. He had thought her a few years older than him, but now he knew she was around his age. She was determined though and he could see that as she ordered the men around, with no concern they would refuse.

"Do you want to be a sellsword?" She smiled as she rolled her bedroll up to place behind Durk's head. "Lay back, that is an order." She snapped at the scarred man.

"No. It dishonours one's sword to sell it." Jon replied to her query. Sir Hightower and Arthur would box his ears if he even thought of selling his sword. Arthur. The knight that had always felt the closest to a real guardian to him had been so close, and now he was so far away. Jon missed Sir Oswell Whent and Sir Gerold Hightower, very much too, but Arthur Dayne had always been extra special to Jon, Arthur would visit Jon on days he was not guarding him, and he would take the other two guards’ night watches whenever he could. When Jon enquired why all Arthur said was: _It is the least I can do for them_.

Jon had never understood who _they_ were, he wondered if somehow Arthur knew who he was and after speaking of his uncles he must. Was Arthur friends with his parents? No wonder he had seen such pain and anger in the knight when Aerys had harmed him. He had on occasion had to act brave for Arthur, because he feared Aerys would take Arthur away, like he took everyone else away. Ultimately Jon worried what his own reaction would have been if Aerys had killed Arthur like everyone else. When he contemplated it is had night terrors of steel, blood, fangs and flames.

"What a fancy ideal." Visenya chuckled. Jon shook his head quickly to clear it, he had no time to contemplate why the thought of a knight caused him such dreams, nor why Visenya mentioning Daenerys may have to die caused the same night terror to occur the night she joked she would need assassinate Princess Daenerys.

"I grew up in a dungeon, I can afford fancy ideals." She smiled at his response and she was quite a beauty, but he had to remind himself, still not Princess Daenerys though. 

_ If I ever get back to Westeros, I will need be a Kingsguard or a Black Brother, no wife will ever compare to my Girl of Honey and Roses._ He was not going to beat himself up over thinking of the princess as his girl, because as a prisoner and a slave, he could have any impossible dream he wanted. It had occurred to him if he ruined his harp over it then Princess Daenerys was obviously a dream he wanted.

Did that mean he loved her? Too bad he didn’t know what love was, if he did he may be able to answer that question. He liked her more than he liked anyone else. He has missed her as much as Ghost and Arthur, so maybe he did. _Look at me being a foolish boy and falling in love with a princess_. He smiled at his own silliness.

“Why are you smiling Jon?” Visenya asked with her own smile. She could not help it he appeared happy.

“Have you ever been in love, Lady Visenya?” Maybe Visenya could answer his queries. He saw a sadness cross her eyes then disappear as if she had locked it away.

“Maybe I am in love with you?” She wiggled an eyebrow at him. Durk groaned and her attention was back on her friend. Jon could question her, but he had no right to her secrets or her dreams, though he had found in snippets of their interactions there were two very distinct girls under Lady Visenya’s face.

“Yeah, if you were, I would not still be in chains.” Jon challenged and shook his chains. Then he plonked himself next to the prone man. “Move over.” He pulled his knees to his chest and brought his hands under his feet to allow his hands to come to his front.

“When did you learn to do that.” Visenya asked.

“Age four.” Jon answered plainly. “The king had me trussed up in this weird contraption that required me to contort myself to escape or be contorted in a painful way and have my bones snap. Had to learn to dislocate and relocate my joints and contort my limbs, he changed it every time I got a handle on it.”

“Yet, you hold no ill feelings, and seek no revenge?” Visenya asked incredulous of his forgiving nature.

“Look how it helped me here. I should thank him.” Jon flashed her a smile and Visenya was more confused about the young man, thankful a past torture aided a current predicament. Was he a saint?

“You are fucking joking.” Durk groaned.

“Now, Durk if this hurts punch Visenya, not me.” Jon grinned at the man.

“What?” Visenya asked surprised. Jon pressed Durk’s abdomen in several places until he screamed, and folded in half.

“You are a mighty man to endure that and not punch a lady.” Jon spoke jovially to the man and then turned to the girl at his shoulder. “He really does respect you. So, the key is lodged in a very not nice place. We could try to turn it but it could tear something, he needs a physician and I mean someone with a knife. Or a maege. Do you believe in magik, Durk? “

“What?” Durk groaned in agony, still pulling his head back together after the searing pain.

“Mumbo-jumbo. Abracardabra. Hulamabulama. Hokey-makokey. Magic.” Jon tried to determine if Durk was a believer in the hidden arts.

“No.” Durk grunted.

“Yeah, you are going to need a physician.” Jon told Visenya. “We could make him more comfortable though,” Jon said as he sat up and searched the surrounding scrub. He shook his manacles at Visenya. “Undo these so I can go find some stuff.”

“Like what, slave boy?” Visenya was not sure about any of this, Jon was not committing to helping her, but he also seemed content to aid her friend and not escape her. The man had a wholly unfathomable life concept to her.

“Some plants have medicinal properties, maybe I can find something.” He said barely looking at her and scanning the surrounding landscape.

“Do they teach that knowledge in slave fighter school?” Where did all these skills and knowledges come from?

“No, but I read my way through the Red Keep and they had maesters who had books on medicine in the Red Keep.” Visenya couldn’t argue with that and if it helped her friend she wasn’t going to deny the chance he might find something.

“I will come with you.” She declared. It wasn’t that she believed he would take opportunity to run off, she just cold not stand or sit by and watch Durk in pain, doing nothing to alleviate his agony. Her men were

“Good idea, more carrying capacity.” She smiled that it did not even occur to him it may have been to keep an eye on him. She produced a key from down her blouse to unlock the manacles. He grabbed in when she had unlocked them and examined it then looked at Durk quizzically.

“Hmm, the key isn’t that big.” They needed a professional healer for this man. He did not linger on the conundrum though they needed to find something to ease Durk’s pain.

“I take it you are proficient with a knife and sword and probably unarmed combat.” Jon said as he and Visenya checked the various plants around them in a spiral pattern out from their camp keeping the flag of the company in view.

“Why do you think that?” Visenya asked, in a soft tone. Men usually thought she was soft and easy to overcome and manipulate, just as she liked them to think.

“Your men allowed you to walk off with a near stranger they know is good in combat.”

“Maybe they believe your skill is all mummery.” She tried to see if he had any vanity in his proficiencies.

“The Golden Company is famous, and they follow you. You must be proficient.” HE turned and gave her a smile that said he knew what she was trying to do, and he was stupid enough to fall into her trap.

“Alright, I can hold my own. Does that make me less attractive?” She knew it did turn many men’s attraction to her off, many did not wish a girl who could hold her own, they wanted a girl who would swoon when they flexed.

“Not at all. Though let us recall, I am not attracted to you for other reasons.” He had met another far more beautiful, he quickly glanced to the girl beside him, maybe not far more, but somehow far more. Emotions were very confusing. Why was it so different? Visenya was very similar to Daenerys, but still Jon could not find himself attracted to her.

“Durk says you have seen the lovely Princess Daenerys and fallen in love. I almost gave orders to have her killed before I left.” Jon spun quickly at Visenya’s words, when he saw her smile and that she had been jesting, he turned back to his search. “My, Jon Snow. Was Durk correct? Did Princess Daenerys’ beauty overwhelm you at the games the other afternoon?”

“No.” She had enchanted him with her scent and laughter, her intelligence and voice many months before.

“That is best. After all she is betrothed to Prince Aegon.” Visenya reminded him. Jon scoffed at the prince he knew was more show than substance. “Have we seen the Prince? Weren’t impressed. Well, lucky for the princess he is an imposter and the real Prince Aegon is a much better specimen.”

“Real Prince Aegon?” Jon turned around with a quizzical look. How was there an imposter prince?

“Yes. He has been living with me for almost his entire life.” Visenya, didn’t care if she was revealing Connington’s secret, he should have taken Egg home years ago. Jon features screwed up as he thought on her revelation.

“That blue haired guy that wanted you to wait.” She looked surprised he guessed so easily. “He looks nothing like the man he is supposed to be related to , his hair had a completely different reaction to the dye they use; meaning his hair is barely coloured whereas, his so-called father’s was most likely red. He looks like a slightly fairer skinned Dornishman and he has a similar nose to Princesses Rhaenys and Elia. A similar chin and brow to the supposed imposter, which is probably why they chose him. His eyes are the same shape and hue as Aerys and Viserys.”

“You saw all that by the short interaction he had with me?” She was astounded by how perceptive he was.

“I lived in the dark and saw nothing for so long, I see everything the light shows me. How did he get that scar under his left ear?”

“We don’t talk about that.” She said furtively.

“You did it. His guardian doesn’t know, he lied to keep you safe.” She stared at him astonished he had deduced that. “As I said. Live in a hole, you notice everything.”

“How did you come to be in that hole?” That part of the story was not in her knowledge.

“I don’t know.” Jon shrugged as he knelt to pull a grass out of the ground that came up with a bulbous root, he nodded and handed it back to Visenya then walked on.

“Do you know why Aerys kept you?” There had to be some importance to him, Visenya had heard a rumour that might explain it.

“Nope.”

“Do you care?” It appeared as if he did not, Visenya would have died of curiosity, but Jon seemed unaffected by his own mystery.

“Nope.”

“Did you meet the Princess while you were in your hole?” Jon turned again to look at Visenya. “You did. I’m guessing you didn’t know she was the princess though.”

“Nope.”

“So, even if I stole you before the games you still would have loved her first.”

“Yep.” He went back to his searching.

“You just wouldn’t have had a name for her…”

“Scent.”

“Oh, my Gods! You loved her by her _scent_?” Visenya looked nauseated. “That is…”

“I lived in a hole!” He got defensive, he shouldn’t have said anything, he wasn’t sure why he even divulged that to her. Maybe it was the resemblance to Daenerys.

“Actually, it is kind of sweet. In this shit world that story is sweet. Did she love you back?”

“Umm, no.” He looked offended by the suggestion.

“Really?’ Visenya thought she didn’t like this princess if she didn’t love Jon back. She had little knowledge of Jon, hardly knew him and was jaded by the world and had fallen just a little in love with him.

“I presume not.” He answered honestly, because why would a princess love him back?

“Why do you presume not?” Visenya thought Daenerys would, so long as she had a heart beat any girl would. Somehow, he had been treated terribly and yet all it did was make him kinder and more compassionate.

“I lived in a hole, I wore rags mostly and ate swill. She was a princess. She is betrothed to a prince.”

“An imposter prince.” Visenya reminded him. Jon could definitely take out an imposter prince. She was loath to admit it, but as great as Egg was and Egg was great, Jon could outshine Egg too.

“He thinks he is real.” Jon cocked his head and a curl fell in front of his left eye and Visenya ‘s knees wobbled. She was sure Daenerys was fall down in love with Jon.

“And you think you are false. You are both wrong.” Visenya said in a ‘you know nothing, listen to me’ tone.

“I am not wrong.” He shook his head and moved on.

“There is a good chance you are …” Jon turned around to gaze at Visenya as she was about to speak a theory about him. She stopped, Jon loved Daenerys, Jon was a good guy, picking weeds to heal her friend who kidnapped and chained him. She was not going to tell him Daenerys was his aunt. On a rumour.

“What?” Visenya spoke like she knew something about Jon and his family, was she not sure now?

Truth was she no longer was sure, Jon did not resemble Egg, so maybe it was all fancy on the storyteller’s part. “Wrong. You must be some one of importance and note because Aerys kept you alive for so long.” Jon dove for a plant.

“This will be very helpful.” He held it up and Visenya shrugged, seen one weed you have seen them all. “As to keeping me alive, Aerys is mad there is no rhyme to any of his actions.” He turned to head back to Durk.

Visenya caught his arm. “Seriously, Jon. The princess is promised elsewhere, forget the dream, if you help me, I could help you to have a very cushy life.” Jon stared down at her.

“Lady Visenya, I do not wish to topple House Targaryen, because one insane man was cruel to me. Quite frankly, you deserve someone who loves you, If you steal the throne you will be so busy defending it you will never enjoy it, I do not understand why the House of Blackfyre pursue it anyway.”

“It is our birthright. Daemon was King Aegon the IV, first born son,”

“Out of wedlock. House Blackfyre could stand alone, why doesn’t it?” Jon found it perplexing.

“It is mine.”

“Why not marry the _real_ Aegon then?”

“It would be weird, we grew like siblings.”

“It would be very Targaryen though.” Visenya opened her mouth to answer but his eyes held her words and her in place. “You pursue it because your father did and he because his father before him. I have seen it, it is ugly. I do not jest. It is not something you should want.”

“Jon, if you were heir to the Iron Throne and someone took it would you not want it back?”

“If I was heir, I would want my realm, not that throne. That throne kills people, it is a symbol of tyranny and oppression. A king should wish to serve his people justly, but good kings are seen as weak kings in House Targaryen. Your namesake took The Vale by flying her Dragon to The Eyrie and showing Lady Arryn she could kill her child. Everyone says how clever she was to show she had the advantage of flight, she was wicked. I would want another base of power than the Red Keep.”

“Summerhall was to be the new palace.” Visenya had heard the dream was Aegon the Unlikely’s.

“House Targaryen are too obsessed with Dragons.”

“It is our blood. Old Valyria.”

“Was too obsessed with Dragons.” Jon believed it, from his reading he believed they were also misunderstanding of the creatures.

“You have powerful opinions, young man.” Visenya smiled.

“If House Targaryen wished to be a House of Dragons, as they were in Old Valyria, they should not have fled to a continent inhabited by First Men.”

“Why?” Visenya asked. Now they stood over Durk having arrived back at their camp. Jon started looking for utensils amongst their things to do what was needed to make the plants he collect helpful to the man in pain.

“First Men…” Durk groan. “First men to abolish slavery.”

“What?” Visenya looked down at her friend. Jon started a fire and asked one of the other men to fetch water to boil in a pot.

“The First Men of Westeros were the first men to befriend the other races and make a law to abolish slavery across their realms.” Jon backed up Durk’s words.

“The Valyrians were the first to ride Dragons rather than kill them.”

“The Valyrians were goat herders.” Jon countered.

“They built the greatest empire that ever was.” Visenya rebuked his insult to the Valyrian Empire.

“Then they lost it.” Jon shook his head.

“Who knew the Doom would happen?” Visenya defended her ancestors.

“Daenys the Dreamer, of House Targaryen.” Jon answered her.

“Blood of the Dragon, it gave her visions.” Visenya said proudly.

“Bull.” Durk groaned. “Prophecy is bull.”

“Explain how she knew then.” Visenya glared at her friend.

“A dwarf told her; the Candles were going to erupt.” Jon said casually. “Fourteen volcanoes all connected. It was a powder keg waiting to happen.”

“A dwarf?” Visenya scoffed.

“Don’t mock them, Dwarves have forgotten more about the earth beneath our feet than men have ever known.” Jon said with awe.

“Short misshapen people?” Visenya scoffed again.

“You don’t have to believe me.” Jon shrugged.

* * *

This new Aegon was starting to irritate Daenerys as much as the original silver one, he was supposed to be leading them to where he surmised his Blackfyre 'friend' was taking Jon or had taken Jon, or was with Jon. He was supposed be taking her to Jon. He was mostly idly riding and gazing at her as if he wished to speak but wasn't. He was annoying her. She had been quite plain that she did not have time for lost Aegons, she was here to find a boy, a specific boy, not him. Geron and his men rode in formation making their party look like a military force, except for their wandering flower, or was that their buzzing bee? Arthur had been caused to ride between the two 'royals' to save Aegon from Daenerys ordering Geron to slit his throat.

"Princess," Arthur used his horse to move hers away. "He is just curious."

"Are you certain he is real?" Daenerys wasn't.

"I am certain his story is. Whether he is truly the babe the story is about, I am not certain." What it mattered was inconsequential, as even if he was the same child, he still was an imposter, still a Blackfyre, but at least he would be Elia’s. Arthur had looked at the lad, he believed this boy was Elia’s, he had some of her features and he had her heart, at least the one she had had before her brother’s twisted it in their schemes, the one Rhaegar may one day have learned to love. Arthur corrected himself, _if_ Lady Lyanna had never passed through his eyeline.

"Why would they send Aegon away?"

"The time surrounding your brother's death was a time of turmoil and there was much confusion and uncertainty about the future. It was for Aegon and your House's safety. They thought it best to ... It was a terrible time in the realm.” Made worse by Rhaegar’s inability to refuse the draw of a wolf maid. Arthur did not blame Lyanna Stark she had been as stuck as Rhaegar, as he was married to a woman he had fondness for but could never quite give his whole heart to; Lyanna was betrothed to a man she had an affection for but could not have more passion for than that of an adopted brother.

If only the Universe had not had their ages so diverse, eight years did not matter that much but when everyone held their breaths over their king’s madness and looked to their Crown Prince, he had to marry and produce heirs. The Martells wished to kick dirt in the Lannister’s faces for denying them an arrangement, and Elia wanted children to adore even if they weren’t the boy, she had loved’s. Which her first of course still was, but Rhaegar did not care, he still adored Rhaenys, and as Aerys did not kill the child when he discovered she was more Lion than Dragon Rhaegar let it go with a promise if Rhaenys never got anywhere near the throne and gave Aerys his Aegon then Rhaenys would never be harmed for Elia’s love of Jaime Lannister.

Aerys had seen it immediately, Arthur thought before Rhaegar had. When everyone had been in an uproar about Rhaegar crowning Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty, Aerys had shrugged, said Rickard would be wanting his thousand Dragons, and could someone please send the Direwolf his winnings. Barristan had said when Lord Rickard appeared to save his son, Brandon, Aerys had asked if he was there for his Dragons. Barristan said curiously the reply was:

> _ “Worry Tarry will come for his. I told you my rose was meant for his son.”_
> 
> _ “I need my Aegon.”_
> 
> _ “Aegons always bring destruction before they bring peace. Tear down the old before they build the new. Be prepared Aerys, you are the old.”_
> 
> _ “As are you, Rickard.”_
> 
> _ “Yes, but I am not afraid to die for a new better world, you are.” Aerys arrested Lord Stark as a traitor and the rest is history, grisly hateful history._

"Why was he never sent for?"

"That is a very good question." Arthur glance at the blue hair lad.

"Does he look like my brother?"

"Not a lot." Jon did, but no other of Targaryen blood looked like Rhaegar, or was it that Rhaegar did not look like any of his relatives. A different brow, jaw, nose. Even his ears; Rhaegar’s were ever so slightly pointed at the top and he joked it was all that Dragon blood in his veins. And when his rage was in full blow his eyes changed colour, he lost the Targaryen hues of purple or blue and they shone amber, Arthur had only seen eyes that colour once, when hunting and he came face to snout with a alpha wolf, so strange for a Dragon.

Daenerys saw if nothing else this ‘Aegon’ was causing Sir Arthur to sink into thought, about what she wasn’t sure but maybe he was reflecting on another enigma of her life: Rhaegar, her brother. So many diverse things were said of her brother. He was good and kind, but he betrayed Elia and stole a northern girl, starting a war. Eventually it is said he caused her death and almost the deaths of his entire family for an insane lust of a teen girl, who was betrothed to Lord Baratheon.

Geron took the Dragon by the horns. "Blue boy."

"I am a prince. I would ask for more respect."

"Yeah, you aren't my prince. See all those fellows with swords and such." Geron spread his arms around the men surrounding them. "You aren't their prince either."

"You work for Princess Daenerys." Aegon did not understand how this man and his men ‘worked’. They were employed by his aunt to find a slave she was purchasing. She was purchasing a slave to free him. This slave was more important to her than the possibility that the Prince Aegon she had known her entire life was an imposter and he, himself may be the real one. She acted like that revelation was nothing in comparison. All that and these soldiers did not revere his position as a prince in the slightest.

"No, we don't. I lied to your guardian." Geron smiled a bright smile that almost made his words not mean anything, how did he make someone wish to like him just by smiling?

"So, you are a lying scoundrel." Aegon looked disgusted.

"No. I never lie to a good person. Your guardian is not a good man, so I lied to him. Do not get me wrong, he is far from the worst I have met, but he is not a good person, but I suppose he does try. Anyway, I am not going to waste time talking about him, I wanted to talk about the princess."

"Are you going to tell me she is off-limits?" Aegon smiled. Technically she was his betrothed. He wasn’t so sure now he knew her that he wanted to pursue that relationship. Mainly because her eyes were set on a different horizon. Aegon could learn to love such a beautiful girl, especially considering how intelligent she seemed, but really if she was so concentrated on finding this slave, he doubted her focus would leave the slave until one of them left the world.

"Hell no. You can try, I doubt you will get anywhere. I was going to say if you have questions, ask her, don't stare, I think you are creeping her out. I mean she just met you and you are gazing at her all the time. Bit creepy." Geron knew Aegon had no chance, he had seen the princess’ reaction to his prince, there was no way this boy could divert her. King Aerion would not be getting his revenge on House Targaryen and Aerys and his kin, this feud would be healed by an alliance. Jon would never allow his grandfather to hurt Daenerys. Marriage may just settle the bad blood.

"She is... She knows... I have ... she..." He kept stopping because there was so much, he had so many questions he did not know where to start.

"I get it, I have no contact with my family, and I feel that disconnect. You feel you have this trailing hook and if it would just snag on one thing. Start small, Daenerys cannot answer everything, but I am sure she would be happy to answer some of them, to give you something. Just stop looking at her as if you want to consume her. She cannot tell if she should need a chastity belt or a really big waterskin for her long story." Geron might say he hated House Lannister and he did, but he still missed having a family to cling to.

"Is it true The Blades only take high paying contracts that are death only contracts?" The man’s mercenary company stirred Aegon’s curiosity and he needed to determine what they were if he was going to have them around him and his aunt. Sir Arthur was legendary but even he could not take out this many men.

"We don't take Death Contracts. We also never abduct. We also take most of our contracts for free, if they are freeing people of oppressors." Geron said quietly.

"The Gold Company, is famous for never failing a contract once they have been paid."

"If we find the patron was false in their contract and misrepresented the situation, we return all their gold and reject the contract. The most we will do is refuse to divulge their secrets to their enemy. Usually we take no part in the conflict."

"How can a sellsword company be so picky?" It sounded idealistic. It sounded great, but unrealistic. Aegon did like how it sounded though.

"We aren't sellswords. We have a patron. We have a liege, we answer to. He allows us to work across the world but we are always at his call. Most of the money we make goes to those in poverty we have encountered."

"Really." Aegon could not keep the awe out of his tone.

"Hence you see why I say your guardian is not a good man, not bad, but not good." Geron watched as Arthur allowed the princess to return to the centre of the column. "Remember talk to her like a person."

"Thank you." Aegon took a breath, he was grateful, because he had not been sure what he had expected when he met Daenerys, but the girl was not what he expected. He had been told she was beautiful, and she was far beyond his expectation, she was breathtaking. He didn't know if he thought he would fall in love or she would swoon at the sight of him, which seemed ridiculous now he considered it. Whatever he thought, it had not happened. Griff had spoken like they would connect on some deep or higher level and return to Westeros brushing aside the imposter and take over the Seven Kingdoms. That was never going to happen. Not between Daenerys and himself.

Aegon took Geron’s advice though he steeled himself for her brush off but rode slowly closer until he was within speaking distance of her and although she eyed him suspiciously, Arthur Dayne did not move him off, and Aegon figured that was good. He, however, was under not delusion that the knight trusted him, he knew even if he was not aware of it, Arthur was keeping an eye on him.

“Essos must be a culture shock for you, Princess Daenerys.” Aegon thought to start with some idle small talk to calm her.

“It is different.” She said with a guarded tone, he did not act rebuked, but she knew she had been too closed off. “Not all bad.”

"Slaver’s Bay isn’t the best example of Essosi culture.” Aegon had been given a wide exposure to Essos. And he thought maybe he had been blessed slightly by not having been stuck in the cloistered life his imposter was.

“Slavery is disgusting.” Daenerys saw no merit in the practise.

“Strangely, it is not all bad.” She glared at him. “There are many versions and many levels. Further east, there are cultures where the slaves are sometimes treated better, more exalted than the freemen. There is one culture I and Vy encountered, where a pleasure slave is so highly exalted that a highborn man can be executed for mistreating her. She is owned but only her master commands her, all others must bow to her. Her caste is so treasured by her society.”

“Jon had to risk his life to fight for the pleasure of others.” She saw no merit in any society that put Jon in danger.

“Ahh, yes, the mythical magical Jon.” Aegon said the name quietly.

“He is not mythical he is real.” Daenerys snapped; she would not let this ‘prince’ insult her Black Cell Boy. “Do I need call someone to free me of you?”

“Oh, I have seen him fight, I know he is real.” Aegon did not show his surprise at how easily she would order someone’s death for this young man. He knew with no doubt his aunt was in love, and he knew Griff would not like it, but he was happy for her and his imposter would probably agree with Griff. Lucky he was the real Aegon, because he could release her from their betrothal, if he liked this Jon Snow and thought him worthy of her.

“You watched him fight?” She stared at Aegon as if he had admitted he had kept slaves, “Did you wager on his fighting?” She asked in a tone that said she would no longer think him human if he said he did.

“Yes and no. I saw him fight, he is very skilled. I never wagered on the fights. I understand it will not stop slavery, but I will not condone it either with my coin.” He saw a softening in the princess’ demeanour, he had gained a point in her favour. “How long have you been searching for him?”

“Mother has spent our whole trip in pursuit of Jon.” Daenerys answered.

“I was not talking of this trip, I meant overall.” Aegon spoke softly to show he was truly interested and did not condemn her interest in the lad.

Daenerys turned her head to gaze at him surprised, she had not been searching for Jon. Well, only since he disappeared from the pyramid. “The day before we met.” She said with a tinge of confusion. “No, I suppose the night before we met, I decided to search for him, but I only started that morning.” Aegon smiled, he did not believe her, a princess did not get on a horse and journey into the deserts of an unknown land for a person she barely knew.

“I meant, how long have you pursued him?”

“I have not!” She snapped offended by his inference she was… whatever he was inferring. She was betrothed to Crown Prince Aegon, as he had pointed out technically him. She was not betraying her betrothal and _pursuing_ some random boy!

“Not looking for lost Aegons?” He repeated her comment. “If this Jon was a prisoner in the Red Keep, you did not simply stumble on him.”

"We did in fact. We were exploring the Black Cells because we were bored, and he was there in the last one.” She corrected him.

“So, that explains day one. What about the other days?”

“What?” She blinked as he caught her.

“You stumbled on him on day one. You searched him out on day two and everyday afterwards.” He pointed out the inconsistency to her story, he understood she may not have seen it that way but if she had gone to see this mystery of a boy for multiple days after the first one, at some point she had search out this Jon Snow to enjoy his company, to be with him. Aegon the Blue, was not his imposter, though he too had been told his entire life he would grow and be wed to the most beautiful princess in the world, and they would reign as king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he was happy to let her go, if her heart set in a different horizon.

“I was just curious to why a boy would be in a Black Cell.” She explained her curiosity.

“Why was he?” Aegon was honestly curious.

“I do not know.”

“Why was he, Sir Arthur?” Aegon spoke louder so the knight could hear, though he was sure Arthur’s hearing was sharp enough he needn’t have bothered. Daenerys turned to look at Arthur who simply stared forward.

“He will not tell you.” Daenerys informed Aegon.

“Why will he not tell you?”

“I do not know that either.”

“I understand him not telling me. We don’t even know if I am just another imposter, or really who I have been told I am; but he knows you are his princess. Is this Jon Snow’s true identity so very dangerous?” Arthur flinched as if to stop himself looking at Aegon as Daenerys shrugged, but Aegon took his answer. “Ah, so it is. It does not matter.”

“Why does it not matter?” Daenerys asked this blue haired boy.

“Because it is dangerous in Westeros and we are in Essos.” Aegon smiled. “If it is dangerous even here then your slave boy is very interesting.”

“It is dangerous everywhere.” Geron said to get nods from his men. “Dangerous for any who would harm him.” Aegon got a poignant look. “So, hope your lady friend has been kind to him.”

“Anyway,” Determining Jon’s worth politically, was not Aegon’s purpose. Determining his worth personally was. What was Jon Snow’s true worth to Princess Daenerys, because Aegon doubted it was her compassionate heart. He got the distinct feeling it was her passionate heart that this Champion of Meereen, this Black Cell Boy, this Jon Snow, had. “Why are you searching for him?”

“Why is your lady friend?”

“She wants to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“How does stealing Jon get her that?” Though both apparent Targaryens found Arthur thought this worth hearing as he slowed his steed.

“She heard some rumour that says he could, I do not know what, she would not speak of it for she distrusts Griff when it comes to Westerosi politics.” Aegon shrugged.

“How does that work? She as a Blackfyre wants to usurp the Targaryens; Connington wants to put you on the throne as the rightful heir. You both lead the Golden Company…” Arthur saw the split and tensions it must cause.

“I and Vy are like siblings, admittedly Griff hates it. We simply swore to not harm each other in our pursuits.” Aegon seemed much calmer about it, then Silver Aegon would be if he knew someone opposed him for the throne.

Daenerys quirked her eyebrows in a strange angle at the blue haired boy and he started laughing at her, her expression changed to irritated but he just laughed harder. “What is so hilarious?”

“I just wonder if your eyebrows are real or caterpillars you have trained to do your bidding the way you can move those things.” He pointed at her.

“Lords do not tend to laugh at me.” She snarked at him.

“I am a prince not a lord.” He said seriously. She pouted at him.

“This is why I have no time for lost Aegons.” She quickened her horse’s pace to match Arthur’s and rode away.

Geron rode forward. “I thought you wanted to discover more about your family.”

“I found I am curious about this boy everyone is so interested in.”

“Don’t get too curious.” Geron warned.

“Because he is dangerous?” Aegon turned to look at Geron with curiosity.

“Yeah.” Geron confirmed.

"Then I am even more curious.” Aegon gazed after Daenerys. “Especially if my aunt is in love with him.” He turned back to Geron. “She is in love with him, isn’t she?”

“I doubt she has had time to determine that in truth.” Geron admitted, though she had declared to him she did.

“Some people only need a glimpse.” Aegon said quietly as he gazed after Daenerys, he thought maybe Daenerys was one of those, Daenerys and this Jon Snow.

“Are you superstitious Aegon, the Blue?” Geron asked with a tinge of amusement.

“There is a wise woman in Meereen. They call her The Grace; she is the only person I have ever met and believed could talk with Gods. I have met many who claim it, but her I believe, every word she speaks. She speaks so few. She says love is not instantaneous.” Aegon looked at Geron and Geron saw no jest in the man’s expression, and he understood he too had seen The Grace.

“Yet, you said only a glimpse.” Geron prompted him to explain himself.

“She also says, those who fall in love at first sight have been gazing at each other for eons.” Aegon gazed at Daenerys. “Perhaps my aunt, is so determined because her sight has been obscured by Vy taking his eyes away from her vision.” Geron gazed at the blue haired boy, wondering at his demeanour, was it from sharing the real Aegon’s womb with him? He was known for his insightful words when he wasn’t trying to rattle someone’s cage.

Geron hoped Darkstar wasn’t rattling too many cages in King’s Landing currently, the man went a bit off the rails sometimes if he was geographically, and chronologically separated from Jon. Essos was too far, six months was too long, he could have sent Aerys right off his tree by now. He sometimes questioned why everyone watched Jon so closely when his brother was the troublemaker. Jon could be trusted to be rational and calm, Aegon could not.

“I do want to ask her a thousand questions about my family, but I found I just had to ask her about this slave boy of hers.” Aegon did not understand it himself, maybe because she was the family he had right now, right here and he wanted to understand her, because she was real. His family had been imagined for so long. Her feelings for this slave were a large part of her reality currently. Maybe it made her more accessible for him too. She was just a girl, who could love a boy she shouldn’t, like Aegon was a prince who considered a girl who should be his enemy as his sister. Daenerys was human and messy like him.

He did not get to talk to her until they made camp that night, he started by apologising for embarrassing her. “I and Vy laugh and jibe each other all the time, sorry. You probably don’t do that with your family.”

“We don’t.” She said with some regret. “Father is very paranoid.” She exhaled heavily. “I wouldn’t try being one of us if I were you.”

“I have no choice.”

“You want to be Crown Prince that badly?”

“No. I want to return to my family. I like Lord Connington and I love Visenya, but they aren’t my true family. I want to embrace my mother and sister. I want to know what having a mother is like.” Aegon showed her a little of his soft underbelly.

“I don’t think Silver Aegon will like your return. He will argue you are the imposter.”

“For all I know I could be. I have to see. Hope if I am the real one, my Mother will know me.” Aegon feared she wouldn’t. “What if she doesn’t?” He looked at Daenerys and she saw his worry.

“I do not know.” She reached out her hand and for the first time she placed her hand on him and touched him. “Regardless, as my father is insane it might mean nothing.”

“He could simply kill me.”

“Or insanely accept you. Or yes, kill you.”

“Thanks, you have made me feel much better.” Sarcasm dripped from his words like sauce from meat.

“I do my best.” She gave him an honest smile. She was beginning to like this Aegon better than the one at home, even though she hardly knew this one at all. Maybe she liked that he had none of the terrible habits Aegon the Silver had learnt from her father and brother.

“If your father, my grandfather accepts me as the real Aegon, what does that mean for us, for you?” He saw the flash of worry as she snatched her hand back. “I have no interest in forcing you to continue a false betrothal. Will he force us?”

“He would.” She nodded sadly.

“If I refused?” She looked up at Blue Aegon and saw he would refuse if she thought it would help her. She wondered why; he hardly knew her.

“It would not matter.” She thought he should understand there was no freedom in Westeros.

“Should we make it impossible for him to do it?”

“How?” Daenerys doubted anything could change her father’s mind.

“One of us marry someone else before we get to Westeros.” Aegon said it simply and easily.

“Like who?” Who would he wed? This Visenya? He said it would be weird as she was like a sister to him.

“Well, you could wed this Champion fellow.” Aegon had no idea how that plan did not jump screaming to the front of her mind but as her head snapped to him and her eyes looked wide and astounded, it had not gone anywhere near that direction.

“I…” Geron said Jon was the missing prince, but why should she trust Geron anymore than any other stranger she did not know.

“Would love that?” Aegon thought that would be her answer but he was surprised as she just shook her head, muted by his suggestion. “What exactly were you planning once you found him? This boy you love. I mean I get the distinct feeling you do not wish to return to Westeros and marry Aegon, me or him. I thought you wanted to find this Jon and live, cornily happily ever after.”

“I… I… I do, but I’d never be allowed to.” Daenerys looked at the ground with a frown that could break the hardest heart. Even if Geron could be trusted to be truthful, even if Jon was some missing prince, surely his grandfather would hate her House. Why would Jon ever forgive her for her father’s tortures?

“Allowed? We are in Essos, not Westeros. They’d have to find you, to catch you, first.” Aegon smiled as if he thought it was a non-problem.

“That is very kind of you to suggest, but it would never be allowed.” Daenerys gave him a genuine smile of appreciation.

“He is a brilliant fighter; he could probably keep them off you for quite a stretch of time.” Aegon could imagine quite a long stretch, especially with The Blades aiding them.

“Eventually they would kill him, and I would never forgive myself.” Daenerys could not live in a world where Jon died because of her.

“Well, I think there is much more to this slave than we know. I believe whatever it is we do not know may just be a saving grace for the two of you.” He leaned forward to whisper to her.

“Are you the same young man who told me he was technically my betrothed a day or so ago?” She smiled at him. If the secret was as Geron said, it could, or it could be their breaking.

“Yeah, I am smart enough to realise that might have been a premature announcement. I do want to go home and be me. However, I want to be your friend, I do think we could be friends, and friends do not marry to be miserable for the rest of their lives.”

“I might not have been completely miserable.” She forced a half-smile, not completely miserable. Marry the Blue instead of the Silver may have brought her a happier existence, but now little could compare to the dream of a boy from a Black Cell.

“Well, a nephew should wish his aunt to be happy, and not even the littlest bit miserable.”

“You are very different from Aegon the Silver.”

“Do you really think he is laying with his sister, my sister? Princess Rhaenys?” Aegon looked disturbed.

“My brother Viserys, inferred it. I do not know. She had said some things to reassure me about my future marriage that might suggest it too.”

“Then let us hope that I am no imposter. If he is an imposter, then.” Aegon stopped and looked sickened. “Then they were doing nothing wrong.”

“Except they grew up believing themselves siblings.” Daenerys reminded Aegon, it was still not healthy behaviour.

Aegon shivered. “Is it that I was not raised within our House?”

“No, I was raised within our House and I cannot abide it either.” Daenerys assured him.

“Good, I am not totally weird then.” He grinned. “May I ask you some other questions about our family?”

“Sure, I will try my best to enlighten you to every dark little corner of our House.” She chuckled at him. They talked late into the night, bonding over the information she espoused to him and becoming closer as the family they could very well be. Daenerys went to her bedroll with a smile, maybe having this nephew would be nice. Even if he was an imposter, she would try to get him to be allowed to stay, Aegon the Blue was a good potential friend.

* * *

Durk’s fever had broken but he was still in pain and the key was still firmly stuck in his large intestine, they needed a physician and Yohan had returned saying there were no villages or camps close enough with good enough healers. Visenya was worried and Jon said they needed to make for one of the great slave cities or Durk’s life was on the line, his remedy would only keep the pain and fever at bay for a day or so more before the man would turn septic and then Durk would be dead.

As if Durk’s fate was not bad enough the sentry came in, riders were approaching a military formation, flying no flags or banners. Too far off presently to make any details out but headed this way. Visenya decided that she and Yohan would go out and meet them, try and buff that the entire Golden Company was here and to take a wide berth. Jon said he was a terrible liar so would stay with his scarred friend.

Visenya and Yohan suited up and hoisted their banner, She only hoped it worked, they may question why they were in the middle of nowhere and if the entire company was here, why only two come out. She would need deal with that when she got there or be prepared to run. Jon said she should take the other three men to make it look more authentic but she said she needed him and Durk guarded in case they had more flanking them.

Daenerys, Geron and Arthur watched as a slight soldier rode beside a more regular portioned one bearing the banner of the Golden Company. It seemed Aegon had been correct, this was indeed the path his fellow companions had taken, it was strange they had not made it further though, and why they were riding out to meet them like this.

“I will take the lead.” Geron said as he urged his horse forward. “Elkman, go get the blue prince.” The man who wielded the spiked Warhammer headed back down the line.

“Keep your horse behind mine princess, until we determine how this will play out.” Arthur moved his horse to shield Daenerys. She nodded and slowed her horse to fall in behind the kingsguard. Hoping Aegon could defuse all this with his presence.

“Halt!” The soldier bearing the Golden Company’s Banner called. So, Arthur did as did the rest of The Blades, all but their commander. “I said halt!” He repeated.

“I will not be yelling at your commander, it is rude to scream at a lady.” Geron called, and only stopped his gelding when he was within a distance that he did not need to yell at Visenya. “Hail, and good day to you my lady.” He bowed quite well for a man in a saddle.

“Hail, good day good sir. May I ask why you are travelling this way?” She may have been raised in a sellsword company, but she was noble blooded and she knew her courtesies.

“We are seeking.” Visenya found this man to be handsome and well spoken, he was no buffoon, it would be a shame to have to kill him.

“What are you seeking?”

“We are seeking you.” Geron grinned as if he had caught her, and in truth he had she was not expecting that.

“Me?” She sounded as if that was a strange answer.

“Yes, you, Lady Blackfyre, and a guest you have travelling with you.”

“I am not sure you are correct in your searching. What makes you think I am this Lady Blackfyre you seek, I mean I do not know you.” Visenya was very concerned. How did he know who she was and how did he know she had Jon?

“Shall we cut the enigma and lies and get to it. I am Sir Geron, of The Blades, I am currently helping Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen to find her friend Jon Snow the Champion of Meereen who you had abducted from the House of Wazir and we have been guided here by Aegon the Blue of House Targaryen.”

“Aegon, the Blue?” Visenya thought that was strange. Made sense, and it was kind of funny if she thought about it but still _the blue_. Then she saw him riding up on his chestnut gelding, blue hair flowing in the desert breeze a concerned look on his face. _Aegon, The Blue_. She chuckled.

“Vy!” He called as he got closer hoping he had gotten to the front before there was trouble.

“Egg.” She said with affection in her voice as he stopped his horse a head before Geron’s.

“We didn’t expect to come upon you so close. You have hardly travelled. Is something wrong?” Egg looked her over worried for her welfare.

“Yohan go back and explain the situation. We are caught. But Egg has … Have you secured a merciful punishment for us Egg?”

“I don’t know. I know so long as he hasn’t been harmed, they will negotiate peacefully. Right?” He turned to Geron.

“We are ready to talk.” Geron nodded.

“Why have you stopped?” Aegon asked Visenya.

“Durk swallowed a key. The idiot is real sick, he might die. It is stuck in his gut,” Aegon heard the crack in her voice, Visenya was a tough one, but she loved her men, she considered some to be family. Durk had a special place in Visenya’s heart, she would be broken if she lost him.

Visenya lead them back to their camp, and she took the opportunity to look at this princess everyone said was so very beautiful and damn but they were right. Visenya wasn’t interested in girls, but she could see what guys would be attracted to. What Jon would be attracted to.

When the newcomers got to their camp Visenya watched the princess. Jon was wrong, so very wrong. Princess Daenerys was very much in love with him too. She had ridden quietly, you would have wondered if she was even alive, but as the girl’s amethyst eyes alighted on Jon Snow she sat up and she started to glow, her eyes brightened and she smiled a glorious smile. She vaulted from her horse – the older knight vainly tried to catch her then shrugged at the futility of the endeavour - and ran to where Jon was crouched over Durk, spooning some medicinal drink into his mouth.

Princess Daenerys stopped mere centimetres from Jon as he stood and turned to face her, he looked down surprised to see her before him. They both took a deep breath, then smiled wide ecstatic smiles.

“Hello Jon.” She sighed.

“Hello Daenerys.” Jon replied, then he looked perplexed. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to apologise for running away.”

“So, you chased me all the way here?” He watched as she bit her lower lip adorably and blushed.

“Yes, I suppose I did. I didn’t know when I would see you again, so, I came to get you.” She wore the most adorable smile he had ever seen, though he had never seen a girl smile adorably, he was pretty sure no other girl in the world could look quite so wonderous.

“Thank you.” He really was thankful, she had no obligation to do anything for him and yet here she was.

“Oh, you are most welcome. However would I have explained to Ghost if I lost you?” Daenerys smiled coyly at him, she didn’t know what to do next, she just wanted to touch him to see if he was real, but she had never touched him while he was awake before.

“I would imagine with difficulty. It is good to see you are feeling better than the last time I saw you.”

A few feet away Visenya and Aegon stood watching the other teens as they reunited, her silver head cocked to the left; his blue head cocked to the right, almost meeting in the middle. Both wore an expression of disbelief.

“I think I might just have a toothache from how sweet they are.” Visenya said.

“I know.” Aegon replied. “Wow. Do you think we should get a bucket of water?”

“A tent?”

“A holy man?” Aegon turned to look at Visenya as she slowly turned to look at him.

“Sorry, Egg. Looks like your princess is taken.”

“So is your usurping king.” They then went back to staring dumbfounded at the two other teens who by this stage had run out of small talk and were just gazing at each other smitten. Geron came to stand beside the two Golden Company Dragons.

“What are we thinking?”

“They’re obviously in love.” Egg and Visenya said in unison.

“It kinda cramps your plans doesn’t it?” Geron spoke with amusement.

“It would be evil, plain evil to break them up.” Aegon said as he stared at Visenya, as if telling her she wasn’t allowed to do it.

“I am not the one betrothed to one of them.” She said defensively. “Anyway, he refuses to topple Aerys.”

“Yeah, she isn’t interested in marrying a prince and sitting around sewing.”

“Do princesses sit around sewing?” Visenya asked.

“Apparently. So, maybe you would hate being queen.”

“So, you met your princess, and Griff hasn’t got you married yet, how’d that happen?”

“Daenerys had no time for lost Aegons. Apparently, my grandfather would prefer seeing you than Griff, according to my Grandmother. I am to go home Visenya.” Aegon exhaled and his face fell into a contented smile. Visenya’s face became the opposite.

“I will miss you Egg.” She frowned, though she was trying to be happy for him, she really would be lost without him.

“Hell no, you are coming.” He turned and took her by the shoulders.

“Lord Connington is staying.” Said an authoritative voice. Visenya turned to see a man dressed in white desert garb with some splashes of red silk.

“Visenya this is Sir Arthur Dayne.” Egg introduced them.

“He is imposing.” Visenya looked him up and down. “Am I to go in chains, for the treasonous crime I have committed?” Aegon was confused.

“No, he is unharmed. As long as he isn’t dead the king will be forgiving.” Arthur said with little emotion.

“Both of them.” Geron confirmed. Arthur was not sure to Geron’s meaning but they needed to make plans.

“What is our next move?” Arthur said to the three younger people. Jon and Daenerys were transfixed currently and of no help to any decision making.

“Durk needs aid.” Visenya said to Aegon.

“Astapor is the closest large city.” Geron informed Arthur.

“A slave city.” Arthur did not sound like he was agreeable.

“The man needs a physician, not a moral high horse.” Geron said as they looked across at the man near Jon.

“We should return to Meereen.” Arthur knew the Queen wished to be far from Essos.

“Durk would die.” Visenya snapped at the cold seeming knight. Her tone caught Jon’s attention and he tore his eyes from Daenerys. Her eyes followed his.

“What is happening?” Jon said as he moved towards the group who had been their audience.

“Queen Rhaella waits on us in Meereen.” Arthur said to Jon and Daenerys. Reminding the princess, they were to go home.

“We cannot go back to Meereen right now.” Jon said in response, “Durk there is in bad shape, he has a metal key locking up his intestines, he needs a physician. We need to get him to one as soon as we can. That is our first priority.”

“Queen Rhaella has negotiated your release Jon.” Arthur did not expect that would change Jon’s mind and would have been disappointed if it did. He saw the flash of shock race past in Jon’s eyes.

“Well, that will have to wait. Durk’s life is more important.” Jon said postponing his freedom, Arthur nodded. “Where is the nearest town with a physician likely to be?”

“Aegon?” Daenerys turned to her new nephew she may not be sure of the woman, but she trusted her blue nephew, and if he didn’t know, Geron would.

“Astapor.” Aegon said as he looked at Visenya.

“Astapor.” Geron nodded to confirm.

“Another slave city.” Arthur sighed disappointedly. Arthur clenched his teeth, he had grown adept at hiding the expression of fury, in his long duty of protecting his friend’s son over the years. Aerys barely knew how much Arthur truly hated him, if the madman had any idea how many nights Arthur’s famous sword had left its sheath with Arthur’s desire to remove Jon’s torturer from the boy’s life, Arthur ‘s head would have been on the Executioner’s block years ago.

“We are in Slaver’s Bay, Sir Arthur.” Aegon pointed out, surely the knight should not be surprised.

Arthur was not surprised; he was merely tired of the deplorable places Jon was cursed to live in. Was it such an inconvenience to the world for the lad to live in a peaceful place with no danger? Though even with the queen wishing to free Jon, would his life be upgraded? Arthur doubted anything could repay the sins visited upon him. The knight looked across at the shy smile the boy was giving the princess and thought to change the boy’s future more radically than even his queen had plans for.

“Astapor.” Arthur said. “We build a sled for the man and we set off as soon as we can."

“It is not safe to travel by night in the desert.” Visenya informed the knight who had no idea of the dangers of Essos. “Not with such a small group.”

“I heard tales of how great the Golden Company is and The Blades. With Jon and I, who poses a danger to us?” Arthur said with confidence. “We build a sled and travel through the night.”

“There could be Dothraki out there.”

“There are Direwolves and Dragons with us, why need we fear horse lords? They are prey. We ride with predators. I mean …” Arthur pointed at Geron. “We even have a War Lion.” Then the knight started giving orders to both Golden Company men and Blades as if they were his own personal army.

“Did you hear that?” Geron asked Jon.

“How long have you been waiting for someone to call you a War Lion?” Jon smiled at Geron.

“Too long.” Geron fake wiped a tear from his eye, then turned to his men. “Is Sir Dayne speaking a foreign language? We are Westerosi, do what he is ordering you to!” The Blades started following Arthur’s commands at double time.

“Astapor.” Jon said as he turned to the direction of the city they were heading to. He felt a hand enter his and close around it, when he looked down Daenerys had placed her hand in his and she looked up at him.

“This was a little more of Slaver’s Bay than I was expecting to see.”

“I promise to keep you safe.” He squeezed her hand slightly.

“I trust you will.” She squeezed his hand back.

“I mean, how would I explain to Ghost that I lost you?” He asked her with a smile, she returned it with a slight blush.


	25. A Walk in the Kingswood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's see what crazy King Aerys is up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that people want cuddly cozy Jonerys but I got tripped by a comment saying my OC's are too thin. So I need to do some real brain storming on this.
> 
> This may not be up to scratch but I just wrote and when I thought it was degrading too much stopped.

Rickard Stark had always loved the wide-open spaces of The North, he had spent many hours standing on Winterfell’s walls looking over his lands and enjoying the silence of his realm. Aerys had envied Rickard and his peace, envied his strength in a world that gave people so very little and took so very much. It had taken so much from both of them, but Rickard had remained tall as Aerys crumpled. Aerys should not even know the Lord of Winterfell, yet somehow he felt Rickard had become his closest confidante. Aerys knew he was insane, Rickard was constantly telling him that he was mad to converse with a dead man, but Rickard was one of the few men he trusted.

Aerys for his closest confidante gave Rickard some time to enjoy the world that Aerys feared. He would not stand on the walls of the Red Keep for Rickard abhorred the sight of the city below, the ignored masses. He would not stand on the walls of the City, for Rickard could find no peace looking out with the distasteful fates of people behind him, and Aerys did not believe traitors would not seek him to assassinate him there.

So, Aerys rode into the Kingswood, a dark cloak over his signature silver hair so none would know the king rode out where they could touch him, with only Lord Commander Hightower as his protection and even his unique clothing was disguised. He had arranged to meet another knight out here where none would suspect the king would ever go.

“What do you want?” Benjen Stark had little love of this man, the man who murdered his father, and brother who placed a price on his other brother’s head and had kept his sister’s son as a hostage for all the boy’s life. Black of hair and beard; black of clothing and demeanour towards the King, Benjen Stark was a black son still mourning a lost father and a stolen sister.

“I am your king; you will speak to me with more respect.” Aerys would not abide such insolence.

“I am a Brother of the Night’s Watch; I do not have to treat you with anything.” Benjen could do what his elder brother could not, tell this madman where to stick his crown and titles.

Aerys wanted to rage but this man wore black and he was right, he was immune to Aerys threats, he swore to no king, only his order, older than the Targaryens and their Iron Throne, their seven united kingdoms. Aerys only nodded, he could do no more. Lord Hightower raised a brow, because Aerys should still be treat respectfully from a Brother of The Watch, but if he was going to let it slide, then his Lord Commander was happy to follow his king’s example.

“Is it a Northerner trait to be disrespectful to your king?” Aerys asked calmly. “Your father, brothers and nephew always proved insolent.”

“My nephew? Him, I do not know, because you have not allowed his mother’s family to see him.” Benjen said with barely hidden anger.

“To keep your brother loyal.” Aerys said with a look down his nose at Benjen. “You should all be thankful, I allowed him to keep his head, and not lose it next to his friend Robert Baratheon. I also allowed him to keep the most beautiful woman in the realm as his wife, instead of that whore of your other brother’s Catelyn Tully.”

“Yet, have not allowed any of us to see Jon even once.”

“Yet, allowed you to bring him that beast as a gift.” Aerys replied calmly, Rickard would appreciate him being civil to his son. “Also allowed you to come south to watch it.”

“What do you want, King Aerys?” Benjen narrow his eyes. He felt Aerys had an ulterior motive.

“I simply came for a ride and wish to ask how the beast is fairing. It his health good?”

“Why would you care?”

“He is the pet of my grandson, of course I would care if it were well. He might be upset if he heard it was poorly.”

“Since when did you care how Jon felt?” Benjen doubted Aerys felt much for anyone.

“Again, he is my grandson.”

“Which has never been even seen by anyone, how have you hidden him for so long?” Benjen thought however he did it, the method would not have been good for his nephew. He did not know the boy and shouldn’t care but he was Lyanna’s son and that meant he was the brothers only piece of their sister, they wished to have him be part of their lives.

“How fairs the beast?” Aerys did not have to explain himself to this man or anyone.

“It has a name.” Benjen replied.

“Yes, Ghost.” Aerys may seem like he did not take much notice of Jon and his life, but he took great care to know every little thing about Jon and his life. Rhaella may have thought she snuck things by Aerys, but he allowed everything she did, allowed his three Kingsguards to take what liberties they did with his watches, Aerys had his own spies like The Spider, Lord Varys did.

“I don’t understand you, your grace.” Benjen shook his head in confusion to the king.

“Of course, you do not, your mind is not great enough. Your father, he was a great man, he understood me.”

“You murdered him.” Benjen growled angrily. Sir Hightower placed his hand on his sword hilt telling Benjen Stark taking vengeance was a bad idea.

“That was a very bad decision on my part I must admit. If I hadn’t, I could speak to him, instead of the rest of the idiots in my realm.” Aerys sighed to Benjen’s astonishment. “I do so regret letting your brother’s idiocy make me punish a good man. Your brothers, they cursed your family, with that woman, what was your brother’s wife’s name?”

“Ashara?”

“No, the other brother and the woman who nearly cursed both your brothers. The red witch one, from the Riverlands.”

“Catelyn Tully.”

“Yes, your brother should thank me for saving him from her.”

“We have no reason to thank you for anything.”

“Not true. I blessed House Stark above all other Houses.”

“How?”

“As I said I saved your brother from death and the curse of a terrible wife.”

“You are mad.” Benjen shook his head and looked at Sir Hightower who only shrugged. “You have kept Jon from us.”

“I did not know your elder could be trusted to be as smart as your father. If I was sure he would keep Ashara and not go to Catelyn Tully, protecting my grandson by keeping him close, well it would not have been necessary. I could not allow a known daughter of rebellion to be anywhere near my grandson.”

“We would have protected Lyanna’s son.”

“Rickard was dead, your eldest brother would have taken my head and given your sister to Baratheon trussed like a hog to please Lord Holster Tully and get in his daughter’s skirts. What proof did I have that any of her brothers would protect her like her father would?”

“I would have.”

“Because you sent the raven to Rhaegar about Robert’s abuse of her? You were too little. Else why did you not stop him? I ask you why neither of your brother’s saved her? You sent the message to Rhaegar for a reason. I would wager because you had not faith Brandon or Eddard would keep Robert off her.”

Benjen glared at Aerys for a good ten minutes, then he swallowed and looked away. “I knew the prince would die to protect her, just like I would.”

“He did. In the Riverlands.” Aerys stared into the forest.

“Ned has been loyal, he has never even spoken to the other rebel lords, and yet you keep Jon from us. We don’t even know what he looks like.”

“Rickard. With Aerion’s jaw and brow.”

“What?” Who was Aerion?

Aerys saw the reference to Aerion meant nothing to Benjen. “He has dark hair and your sister’s eyes, but Rhaegar’s brow and chin.” Benjen looked at the king with wonder at this news. “So, he looks much like you, Lord Benjen Stark, dark of hair with grey eyes, though sometimes they darken to brown, it is peculiar, but it is Jon.”

“Why did you send him to Essos? You could have sent him north if you wished done with him, we would have welcomed him, he could be part of our family.”

“He is Rhaegar’s son. What would he be explained as in The North some motherless bastard? No, he is a prince, and those that would harm him in King’s Landing would not have worried for a few extra leagues travel to assassinate him in The North. The Old Dragon had to see him, so he could take up the watch. He needed time to send his guards.”

What are you babbling about? You are the old Dragon, unless you mean Maester Aemon, and I can tell you as a brother of The Watch he has no guards to send for Jon.”

“How is the boy’s Direwolf?” Aerys returned to his original query, he had no time for family reunions.

“Ghost. He is healthy and hunting well, strangely there have been few visitors to the Kingswood of late.”

“That is because I will not have my grandson’s Direwolf hunted for some puffed up lord’s ego. I have outlawed people entering the Kingswood under punishment of death. Anyone found entering the Kingswood will be buried vertically two feet in the earth.”

“No offense your grace, how is that a deterrent to any but children or dwarves?”

“Head down.” Sir Hightower replied with a grimace. Benjen looked sickened.

“Poachers surely will not take down a Direwolf.” Aerys said with a questioning expression at the Crow.

“I have discouraged them.” Benjen admitted.

“Good.” Aerys nodded at his Lord Commander. “Give him the gold.” The knight held out a small pouch heavy with coin. “Bribe the poachers not to speak if they see him.”

“You know your peasants have never seen a gold coin before and this would be strange and exorbitant to bribe them with.”

“I am a king how would I know that?” Aerys asked with annoyance, how was he supposed to know all the little details? “Go get it changed to something more appropriate to bribe them for their silence then. Now, if you excuse me, I have a comet to meet.” Aerys took his horse’s reins and started walking away from the other two men. The Lord Commander shrugged, he had learnt not to question the Mad King and he knew they had a much more volatile person to meet.

His hair was blowing in the wind like clouds over a mountain, with one stormy streak. He smiled wryly at the horizon, though as he was in the middle of a forest, he should not be able to see it. He liked he did not have to abide by other’s rules, only his brother’s, and Jon was not making or policing any rules here.

“Darkstar.” His peace was disturbed by Aerys’ screechy voice, it was strange, usually it was Viserys who had a screechy voice that made Darkstar want to yank his tongue out and set it straight so his ‘grandfather’ lost the tone that set his teeth on edge.

“Your Madness.” Darkstar spun and bowed low.

“Gerold.” Sir Hightower growled at the young man.

“Sorry.” He looked chastened. “Your grace.” He bowed again.

“As you are my eldest grandson, well grandchild, I will forgive you.”

“You know if Rhaegar wasn’t your son, I am not your grandson, right?”

“Viserys has no children, neither does Daenerys.”

“If Daenerys married someone other than fake my twin, she could marry someone you would like her married to.”

“I do not like the thought of my daughter marrying you anymore than your fake twin.” Aerys had no tactfulness.

“Wasn’t thinking me.”

“Or your real twin, half-twin, what is he to you?”

“Wasn’t thinking him either. I was thinking, I don’t know a boy who you know, but have been not admitting you like.” Darkstar dipped his head to look sideways at the king.

Aerys shook his head. “Nope, I have no idea to whom you refer. Give me another clue.”

“Really?” Darkstar looked disappointed.

_ He means Jon, you madman_. Rickard chastised him.

“Why didn’t he say Jon then?” Aerys asked Rickard though Darkstar and Sir Hightower heard him.

_ Thought you were smart enough to get his clue_. Rickard suggested.

“Well, he was wrong. I didn’t guess Jon, you guessed Jon. How would I know what he was talking about if you didn’t explain it?” Aerys huffed in frustration.

_ You recall, I am not real, right?_ Rickard asked.

“Yes, I am quite aware you are not corporeal. Why do you ask?”

_ You are speaking to me out loud with two witnesses, is all_. Rickard shrugged.

Aerys looked at his two witnesses who were looking quite concerned for the half a conversation they were hearing. “Oh well, I am mad.” Aerys shrugged. “So, I talk to people you can’t see, doesn’t mean I can’t see him.” Aerys looked to where he saw Rickard, standing in his heavy northern furs and leather gherkin, with Direwolves on his chest, and Ice on his back. “Ice is a beautiful sword.” Aerys smiled at Rickard as the northern lord nodded in thanks to the compliment of his ancestral sword.

“So, I was saying if Daenerys married Jon, you could have her married to probably the only grandson who isn’t your grandson, who you like as your grandson. Though you show your affection strangely.”

“Very.” Sir Hightower agreed.

“I have explained this.” Aerys snapped at his Lord Commander. “If I showed my preference for him, they would kill him. Also, I must test him to ensure he is strong enough to reign.”

“By whipping him?” Gerold Hightower asked with no understanding.

“Whipping? You whipped my brother?” Darkstar looked about to disembowel Aerys.

“I did far worse.” Aerys shook his head, disappointed in himself and his treatment of Jon, though somehow not guilty.

“So, I have more reason to end you right now?” Darkstar found Aerys and his madness amusing but harming his brother and not understanding that would lose him his life, Aerys was too far gone.

“I also kept the assassins away from him. The Dornish princes would have had poison smeared on his wet nurse’s teat.” Aerys sent a firm stare to the eldest son of House Targaryen in the lad generation. “I kept him alive.”

“Not safe though.”

“The world is not safe.” Aerys snapped. “Our family has never been safe, the world hunts us, always.” Had he protected his family so well they did not understand the danger simply having the flames running through their veins was?

Darkstar huffed in frustration but he did not argue, he knew Aerys was right, their linage had enemies with long memories and old grudges. There were still those who held stinging wounds over the conquest of the Seven Kingdoms, it was not his brightest moment.

“Why did you ask me here?” Darkstar knew his tone sounded sulky but he had been acting beyond his years for too many of them, and Aerys after all knew how young he actually was.

“How is your mother?” Aerys asked cordially.

“Same as she was at the breakfast you make her share with you every morning. Pretending she is calm when she is actually worried for all her little boys.”

“Except you.” Aerys closed one eye as he looked at the knight. “As she is unaware you are one of her little boys. She seems to be thankful for your presence and service, but not concerned for your welfare, another expendable.”

“She is finding the idea of the real Aegon returning exciting but is worried for the son she raised and is attached to as well. She knows her brothers will sacrifice one for the other, and Oberyn at least will not care if it is the real or the fake, only that it is as you say the most expendable.” Darkstar admitted, one would think he would have more loyalty to the intrigues of his mother’s House, but he only really cared for those of blood relation, so mother, sister and two half-brothers.

“How will you play it if Oberyn chooses to sacrifice your real twin?”

“He is my blood; I will kill my uncle.” Darkstar stated with a coldness to his voice, he might also do it for the fake one, not because the fake Aegon was a good soul, but Rhaenys and Elia were attached to him, Rhaenys a little too attached. Though not so incestuously since Aerys had allowed her to accept suitors correspondence. A strange frontrunner was Willas Tyrell, though not ‘officially’ as they were mostly pen pals, but Rhaenys would float off whenever she received his letters to read them alone.

“Who is also your blood.” Lord Commander Hightower reminded him.

“Yes, but I shared a room with my twin, Oberyn has done nothing for me.” His father had sent him to House Dayne and safety not Oberyn, House Martell did not even know he existed.

“You are peculiar and unpredictable.” Aerys grinned at the knight.

“Remember that, because you aren’t my blood either, King Aerys.” Darkstar smirked at the king.

“Why are you so attached to Jon then?”

“You would not understand. You never had a brother. Also, your Dragon Blood is thinner than ours. You were right to think Rhaegar or whatever grandfather and grandmother would have named him, would be a great heir and king.”

“I am thinking, you and Jon would too.”

“Jon, yes. Me,” He shook his head “I have too many vices.”

“What kind of vices?” Aerys looked to Sir Gerold Hightower, he had informed Aerys of none, and to prove his lack of knowledge he shrugged. “I have not been informed of any.”

“Firstly, and most importantly, I don’t believe the majority of people deserve to be alive, terrible attitude for a king to have. I have not the demeanour of my brother. He would be a benevolent king. I have no desire to serve a realm for any reward or privilege it might give. First sign of trouble, I would walk away and let them fix it themselves.”

“So, my method.” It was how Aerys had so many hating him.

“No, you are mad. If you were sane, I doubt you would be so neglectful. I am not mad, I am apathetic. I just don’t give two fucks about most peoples’ lives. Far as I see it, they are born, they live, they die. Waste of my time worrying about what they do between the birth and death bits.”

“That is cold.” The king’s brow furrowed, because that was a terrible attitude for a king or even a lord to have and he did not even need Rickard to tell him that.

“Hence why, I say you want Jon for your king.”

“I do.” Aerys nodded, it had been his plan, since Rhaegar his favoured but not real heir rode off to rescue Lady Lyanna Stark, he wanted any child that union produced to sit the Iron Throne.

“Marry your daughter to him and she will ensure your grandchildren inherit your throne. Possibly inherit a better one as well.”

“You seem knowledgeable of your paternal linage and history…”

“You want information.”

“I want a guarantee Aerion will accept Daenerys if I can arrange a marriage, that he will not just annul their nuptials or hurt her to spite me.” Daenerys was his little miracle; she was the silver lining to his dark skies. He had not realised how dim her life had been as he kept her safe from the monsters at their gates, until she started disappearing to see a mystery boy who caught her curiosity, and she came into the Light.

“Aerion is wrathful for what you have done to him. He will be wrathful for the harm you have done to Jon. He will not however take it out on a girl. He will not harm her. Jon may have to be the reason he accepts her.” Darkstar inhaled deeply. “He will not accept you marrying his grandson to your daughter if it is not a match of hearts. Sorry, grandpa but you cannot influence this one.”

“I do not have to; I am quite sure my daughter was smitten with the boy I kept in the Black Cell.”

“Yeah, but what about the boy?”

“I do not know.” Aerys looked annoyed, but Darkstar saw an amused smile on the Lord Commander’s face and then it quickly smothered and his face return to neutral. It seems Sir Hightower knew something Aerys did not.

Gerold Hightower was Lord Commander of the Kingsguards of Aerys Targaryen. He kept the king’s secrets, however there were a few secrets he had that he did not share with his king, ones that would do Aerys no harm. Jon’s care for Daenerys was one of those secret’s, Jon would not tell Arthur there was a girl visiting him in secret until Arthur promised no one would be told so she could not be harmed. Arthur had to tell his commander, but Gerold did not have to tell Aerys, so he did not.

“I suppose when Rhaella returns we will know.”

“Do you think Connington will contact the queen?” Darkstar asked, the Martells and their cohorts had taken a chance giving Aegon to Connington before they knew what was happening, Aerys hated Connington. Aerys may reject Aegon based on who raised him alone.

“She will not tempt bringing that traitor here. If Connington crosses the Narrow Seas I will set his head upon my walls for all to see what happens to traitors.” Aerys sneered. “Or another fitting punishment for his betrayal.”

“He lost a battle, miscalculated.” Darkstar did not understand Aerys hatred, Jon Connington had made a tactical mistake, made a wrong guess and lost a battle, he had not betrayed his king.

“He did not miscalculate. He lost deliberately, so we were weakened and Rhaegar would need leave his safety to join the war. If Connington hadn’t lost that battle, Rhaegar could have stayed with Lyanna and they would both be alive today, and Jon would not be an orphan. I would not have had to make him strong, Rhaegar could have taught him. If you truly love Jon, you will hate Jon Connington as much as I do.”

Darkstar did not hate Jon Connington, but then he had not seen his sin the same way Aerys did. He could see the king completely believed what he said, he blamed Jon Connington as much as Robert Baratheon, for the loss of Rhaegar to the realm. If Jon Connington had perpetrated this plan he was a dirty traitor and deserved any torture Aerys came up with, but Darkstar had heard Jon Connington loved Rhaegar – maybe a little too much.

“I believe that is your paranoia, but you are king, and your will be done. So long as he does not try to hurt Jon, I don’t care.”

“If he attempts to harm my heir, no place on the face of this world will be safe for him.” Aerys spat in anger.

“You will have to stand in line behind, myself and King Aerion.” Darkstar said calmly, Aerys could see Rhaeagr in Jon and Darkstar his calm and long temper, he wondered what happened when someone reached the end of that temper.

“Arthur, Oswell and myself too.” Sir Hightower growled.

“So, was that why you asked me here? To discern Elia’s mind and welfare and ask if Aerion will slap manacles on Daenerys?”

“I wished to see where your loyalties lay.”

“Shit.” Darkstar cursed. “You miss rambling at Jon and wanted to replace him with me.”

“You are not as good as the lad was at calming my mind. You could never replace him. I really wished to make sure you were not disloyal to your House, which is House Targaryen. I don’t care what colours and emblems you wear; your House is Targaryen.”

“Fire and Blood.” Darkstar said their words.

“Fire and Blood.” Aerys echoed them.

“The only other Houses I give two shits about are House Stark and House Dayne, because they bear the old blood of the First Men, I am loyal to the Dragons.”

“House Dayne is sworn to House Martell.” Aerys reminded Darkstar.

“House Dayne has my loyalty, but I am no Dayne. You can place a Dragon in a Phoenix nest and it will always be a Dragon.” Aerys did not understand but he accepted Darkstar was loyal.

“Shall we discuss what harm you have visited upon my brother while he was incarcerated under you Keep?”

“No.” Speaking those tortures would shift Darkstar’s loyalties away.

“Jon will tell me.”

“Well, when he does, then can you come for my blood.”

“I will.” Darkstar stood and walked away.

“I did not give you permission to leave.” Aerys scolded him.

The man stopped; he did not turn. “I do not need your permission, I am the Crown Prince of Winter, until Jon returns.” He walked on.

“Insolence.” Aerys muttered.

“ Shall we return to the Keep?”

“No. I wish to enjoy the quiet of the Kingswood for a while.” Aerys said. Rickard would like some quiet time.

Aerys took a deep inhalation, to smell the free places of his realm. The fresh air, there was none in the city, filth everywhere even in the air. Dirty people with dirty souls. Rickard tsked though, the dirty people were like that because they had no choice, some would pay a king’s ransom to have clean water to drink and clean clothes and sheets, to have a bath. Many wanted out of their slums, only the wealthy thought the poor lived as they did out of some decision they had consciously made. No, Rickard reminded him, that Jon had postulate to him once.

He hoped Rhaella was safe in Meereen, hoped Daenerys was getting to see Jon in the sun, as he was sure she had hoped she one day would. He worried two kingsguards were not enough to keep them safe. After having spoken of Connington, Aerys was concerned the man would harm his daughter and wife. He had rarely allowed his little sister out of his sight over the span of his life, she was too soft and kind for this world, he hated that someone could wound her and he would not be there to protect her.

Aerys realised for the first time in many years he had thought of Rhaella as he had as a boy, his little sister, to be protected and kept safe, so she could be the hopeful little heart she always was. He stopped being so gallant when he had not argued their father deciding they would wed. He had thought it was a way to keep protecting her from the monsters, except he had become the monster in her life. One tear escaped as the Mad King remembered being a prince who just wanted to see his sister smile.

Rhaella was not a shrinking flower as time had shown. Her Dragoness had hatched the day he had sentenced Rickard to die. He had not expected his sweet sister to strike him and draw blood when he informed her that Stark was dead. Only his kingsguard, dragging him away had saved him that day.

There was never true peace between them since that day. One particularly terrible fight had ended in him taking it too far and Daenerys being conceived. They had never shared a bed or even a couch since that day. Rhaella, played the part of a dutiful queen and a quiet wife before others and especially their children, but he saw the hate behind her beautiful eyes. Eyes that never smiled at him, only her children or grandchildren. He only got the cold stare of hatred, she had said as he showed her where she had opened his skin that she would never forgive him for killing Rickard Stark.

Aerys had not been aware that Rhaella even knew Rickard Stark that well, had she met him when she was being courted by Bonifer Tarry? Aerys did not understand why Rhaella had taken it so hard, why that was the reason she had finally had enough. He remembered she had screamed and sobbed that she had let him have anything and everything, but he should not have killed him, anyone but him. Was it because he was Lyanna’s father and Rhaegar would be angry?

_ Why were you so damn special?_ Problem was Rickard could not answer that question, he just sighed sadly and stared off into the distance, and Aerys knew no more than he had before. _Why Rhae? Why was Stark so special?_

There would be no answer, he would have to ask her when she came back, maybe it was time he told her the truth, Rhaegar wasn’t theirs and he was trying to protect Jon in his own mad way. He should probably go back now and see if there was any news from Essos.

Darkstar had left Aerys with a purpose in mind, he was going to check up on another family member who was in the Kingswood, against royal order, but then she was probably there against everyone else’s wishes too. No ordinary guards would dare stop her, but they may stop and arrest who she was meeting. It would terrible if he was detained and she was left waiting for hours.

Darkstar had read the note after Aegon had found – torn through Rhaenys’ hiding places – it and thrown it crumpled on the floor in anger. He wanted to ensure that anger had not nixed the rendezvous.

“Shouldn’t the lord be carrying the heavy basket?” Rhaenys asked in an amused tone.

“The lord would be gallant and do that, but the princess chose a difficult to traverse area to meet.” The cultured voice of Lord Willas Tyrell came to Darkstar’s ears.

“It is not difficult to traverse, it is a small stream to cross and a small mound to walk up, to sit under a lovely tree.” She defended her choice.

“I do not know if you noticed, but I only have one leg. Your small stream, small mound are a river and a mountain. Might I also mention your lovely tree has a maze of roots as a defence system.” Although his words were whining the tone was jovial.

“It isn’t that bad.” The princess smiled at the struggling lord.

“Says the girl with two legs.”

“You have two legs.” Darkstar turned away from his sister and her secret meeting, he would keep a watch for intruders, but if she wanted a private meeting, he would give it to her. He smiled at how happy she looked.

“Could you tell my wonky one that?”

“Bring it here and I will.” The princess laughed.

“Is this because I am from The Reach, you cruel woman?”

“Not at all.” Rhaenys said with joy in her voice. Though it was, Dorne and The Reach were still itchy in relations and her Uncle Oberyn had told her she was not to even talk to this son of House Tyrell. She had chosen this place not as a punishment for Willas, but to protect their meeting from the many people who would impress their politics on her and Willas’ friendship. “It is because it is a lovely place.”

Willas finally got to where she stood and looked around at the spot she had chosen for their picnic, he had to admit it was lovely. He smiled warmly down at the beautiful princess. “It is a lovely place.”

Rhaenys’ breath caught in her throat at the warmth in this man’s eyes as he gazed at her. She had never seen any man gaze at any woman like Willas gazed at her. He always looked at her like he was fascinated by every word she had to say and as if the rest of the world faded away when he saw her. Was she falling in love? How would she know, she did not know anyone who was in love, or even loved their spouse? “Thank you.”

“No, thank you, for letting me see this beauty.” He did not take his eyes off her and she was glad she had her mother’s dark skin to hide how red her cheeks must be. “Shall I set the blanket, now I have done the long trek to get here?”

Rhaenys smiled, he made many jests about how lacking he was because of his damaged leg and his limp, but he never let it stop him doing things. “Yes, please.”

After he had set the blanket down and placed the food out and organised it all, Willas took her hand and helped her to sit. She watched as he took the agonising task of sitting on the ground himself, feeling guilty. He finished sitting with a loud grunt. “I do apologise, just letting the other beasts know, I am staking my claim to the spot.”

“I am sorry Willas, I never even thought how terrible it would be for you.”

“Oh, no. Did you bring a rope to lift me up after this?” He smiled at her.

“No.” She hadn’t thought about it.

“Do not worry Rhaenys, I will be fine. I do not usually put myself on the floor, but I do have my methods to get up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hey, I got down here, don’t make me get up before I get some of this lovely food in me.”

“Alright.” The princess picked up a piece of bread and put it to her mouth. She did enjoy her talks with this charming lord, he somehow was able to make her feel as special as the queen and as ordinary as any girl you might pass and say hello to.

“How goes your hunt for a husband?” Willas asked buoyantly. Rhaenys sort of wished he was more jealous, that he did not speak like he had no interest in her future marriage prospects.

“Slowly, my Uncle Oberyn it seems is weeding out the good from the bad.” The good for him, not Rhaenys, she almost wanted to go complain to her grandfather, after all he said she got to choose, it was her reward for her patience.

“Gardening, is a specialty skill, I know Highgarden is surrounded and inundated with gardens, being a rose, I should know about gardening.” He chuckled, she knew Willas was trying to calm her nervousness, but he was not helping as much as he thought.

“As it will be my garden should I not choose what is in it?” She lamented.

“Not how it works, I have many gardens, I get no choice about any plant staying or going.” Willas shook his head just before taking a bite of his own piece of bread.

“Who chooses for you?”

“Grandmother, The Queen of Thorns herself, Lady Olenna Tyrell.”

“I do not mean to be rude, but why are you not wed yourself Lord Willas?”

“As high as my House is, no one wants a husband with a knobbly knee. I think people think I will full off a cliff one day and Garlan will be Lord of Highgarden.”

“Surely you have other traits that would overrule your… you being…”

“Broken and crippled?” She nodded and felt terrible, though he did not seem offended by her words. “I know my intelligence is quite handsome, but there is a difficulty in showing it off.”

“Why did you respond to my letter?”

“Oh, because my grandmother got so very red in the face about it.” He grinned at her.

“Sorry?”

“How dare that jumped up… some not very nice and having met you very undeserving insults later, I thought I would see how you had offended her so terribly and then wondered what quality of responses you would get from them as I guessed you had sent out a blanket of invitations and just added a name at the top.” Rhaenys bit her lip in embarrassment because she had not put much effort to the project in her excitement. “I thought you might need an honest answer, and a friendly one. Also, you are quite a mystery princess.”

“How?” It wasn’t like she was that boy in the Black Cells, hidden away.

“His Grace has kept you cloistered behind the Red Keep’s walls for a very long time, I admit I wondered if you weren’t all just figments of his imagination. Your grandfather is known to be two wings and a fire breath short of a Dragon.”

“Well, I am not imaginary. I am quite real.”

“Yes, and now we all know why he kept you hidden.”

“He is paranoid.” She sighed.

“Oh, see I was going to say because of your beauty but you are probably correct, he had a good reason to hide you but did it for a stupid one.” Lord Willas saw his compliment had taken the princess by surprise, surely her appearance was not a surprise to her. Maybe it was just she did not hear it complimented much, no that could not be, many young lords and not so young lords had appeared to gain permission to court the princess, surely they had been singing her praises.

“You don’t need to flatter me Lord Tyrell.” _Please deny it was flattery only_. She could not hold his eye in the event he confirmed them as true words and he saw her admiration or he confirmed he was just flattering her and saw her absolute devastation. Her Grandfather’s cloistering had denied her the development of an armour when it came to refusals.

“Why do you think I was flattering you? I would think how candid we speak you would know I would not lie to you.” She chanced a glance up and saw he was concerned for her response.

“As you have said, I have been cloistered a long time, I sometimes cannot tell whether people are speaking wind or truth to me, I have no political nous.”

“I hope I am your friend, and I wish you to know I would refrain from speaking wind at you.”

“Refrain?”

“One can not promise to always or never do anything, for only a liar can say they will always or never do anything in their life.”

“Then I will accept your promise to try to refrain.”

“I am glad.” He smiled at her.

“Do I need to get you that rope to help you up?” She said as their food and beverage was gone.

“I did say I had methods.”

She stood and waited for his struggle and he did struggle attempting several different placements of his cane to gain a stable fulcrum. She lent down and offered her elbow. Willas looked offended, she thought he couldn’t do it. “Let me aid you Willas.” She spoke quietly with no judgement of his inability only a wish to help. He sighed then placed his hand on her arm and levered himself up, using her as an anchor.

As Willas steadied his feet Rhaenys cleared the blanket and folded it back in the basket. He felt like a heel to make her do all the heavy lifting when he was supposed to be doing it for the princess. She placed her hand in the crook of his free arm and held the lighter basket in her free hand. “Perhaps on our walk back you can enlighten me about your castle Highgarden, I have heard it is the most beautiful of all the kingdoms castles.”

“As the princess wishes.” He took as large of a stride as he could on the unstable ground, so she was not held back by his handicap.

“Willas.” She kept pace with him, which was not hard.

“Your highness.” Maybe he was still going too slow.

“Could we maybe walk slower, I am not in a hurry to be returned to the city or the Keep. I would like to spend more time with you, my friend.” Willas wondered if she was being kind to the cripple, but as he searched her face for the pity people usually gave him, he found it missing and a content smile only.

“As the princess wishes.” He reduced his gait to what was comfortable for him.

“Slower, Willas.” She felt like dawdling with him through these peaceful woods.

“Sure.” Willas nodded. He had no problem with rambling slowly through the woods with the princess, she was lovely company and he knew for certain she did not look at him as a cripple, even if he was. “I shall now ruin the rest of your life by telling you of my beautiful castle so every other one will be a disappointment to your senses after knowing Highgarden exists.” She chuckled at his joke and remained quiet so he could extol his love of his home and she could imagine what it might be like to live there.

* * *

Elia was worried, Rhaenys had been out all day, and at some point Aerys had left and returned to the Keep, had he seen something and now he was angry? Aerys made her share breakfasts with him, but he did not usually bother her after dusk. Tonight, he sent a demand for Rhaenys to present herself, he had something he needed to discuss with her. Had Rhaenys mis stepped somehow. Elia had asked many questions of her daughter when she finally returned backed up by Aegon’s queries and then Oberyn had interrogated her and sadly her daughter had refused to talk and only Cersei had stood for Rhaenys.

Cersei had reminded Oberyn and Elia, Rhaenys had nothing to answer for, the king had given her freedom to explore, neither believed she was bedding random men, did they? Of course not. So, leave her alone. Rhaenys was beginning to love her Aunt Cersei, the woman was a lion. Not to mention Stefan had arrived with Mycella and her cousin was not averse to cuffing a certain crown prince for being a ‘prick’ up the back of his head.

Stefan was not what Rhaenys expected in a ‘Son of Dorne’; Aegon said rumour had it that Cersei had been promised to Robert Baratheon and the man had taken his wedding right early, that Stefan was a Baratheon. Stefan heard Aegon and said he heard when Elia gave birth to Aegon they couldn’t tell which was the prince and which the afterbirth. Stefan had also brought with him one of his Sand sisters, Nymeria, she was quiet and deadly with a whip. Mycella followed Nym - as she called her – everywhere, if not her then Stefan.

Rhaenys was worried as she entered the long throne room, her grandfather was not there yet, for the throne was empty. Had he heard she was in the Kingswood with Willas? She would not allow Willas to be punished for being her friend. She set her shoulders ready to be a Dragon.

“Why are you doing that?” Her grandfather’s voice came from the side of the room, she quickly looked at him and then at the throne. “I don’t have to always sit on it just because we share a room.” He did not sound angry.

“You asked to speak to me.”

“How goes the hunt for your husband?” Rhaenys smiled because he was the second man to ask her that today. “Why does that make you smile?”

“I have sent many letters out and some responses have been returned, Uncle Oberyn is vetting them.”

“Good on him, I applaud your plan. Very sneaky.”

“Sneaky? I don’t understand.”

“Bury him in responses so he will be busy deciding each man’s political use and value while you are courted by the man you want.”

“I have not done that.”

“Who is that by the way? The man you want. Who have you decided will be your husband?”

“I just told you Uncle Oberyn is sifting through the list to give me a short list…”

“I thought you were joking. I thought you were burying him in paper, while you found yourself a husband.”

“No. Uncle says...”

“If Oberyn Martell tells you who to marry I will cut his tongue out!” Now Aerys sounded angry, because he was. Oberyn Martell had no right to take away his gift to Rhaenys.

“He is helping.”

“Oh.” Aerys walked behind her and passed onto her left side. “So, if he said… Edmure Tully, and you did not like the redheaded idiot, you would marry someone else, who you did love?”

“I…”

“Rhaenys,” Aerys came closer to his granddaughter and he did so not want to touch her, but Rickard growled at him, so he placed a hand on her cheek softly. “I said you could choose any man, so you could choose someone for you, not for a House or politics. I want you to find a man to love.”

“Why?”

“Some do not get that, some lose that, some never recover. Tell me with all your invitations has there not been one response you liked?” Aerys saw her chew on her lower lip and look down at the ground.

_ What is that?_ He asked Rickard.

_ There is a man she would like to know better_. Rickard replied with a smile.

“Rhaenys?”

“He… Uncle has said no.”

“I am sor… No, Rhaenys you see that.” He pointed at the throne. She nodded, how could she not it overpowered everything. “I sit that thing, because I am the king, I said you could choose, so as King I say yes. I don’t care what your Uncle says.” He spun back and forth in his rage. He turned back to stare at her. “It isn’t Darkstar is it?”

“No.”

“Your brother or Uncle Viserys?”

“No.”

“Cousin?”

“No.”

“Then I most definitely say, yes. I can make it official, get me a quill and parchment and I will make a royal decree and then even the man cannot say no. I will have him tied and dragged to the sept of your choice. He isn’t married, is he?” Rhaenys shook her head. “Doesn’t matter I would annul his other marriage if necessary. You want him granddaughter and he will be yours.”

“Grandfather.” She spoke sharply to pull him up. Aerys stopped and looked at her. “I do not know if I love him yet, but he is…” Aerys stood expectantly. “He is from The Reach, Dorne is … we are enemies.”

“Rhaenys, you are a Targaryen, not a Martell. Regardless, if you are enemies, even more reason to marry, to make peace, the Gods know this realm needs some. Which is my bad, I admit it. My point is as the reigning royal line, no one is supposed to be our enemy even if they all are. Fuck House Martell if they deny you chances of a man you could like. You do not answer to Doran or Oberyn Martell, maybe you should remind your mother she doesn’t either.”

“You would support me if I choose one, they disagreed with?”

“I would. Who is it?”

“Please, don’t take offense but I would keep that secret, tomorrow you could wake up and wish to kill him and I do not wish to take that chance.”

“No, fair enough. I am completely insane; I could wake up tomorrow and think I am a chicken.” He giggled at his example, and the disappointed look on Rickard’s face. “Do not give this man away for your Uncle.” He said more seriously. Then shocked everyone by kissing his granddaughter’s head. “Go.”

Rhaenys was confused but she left with the joy of knowing presently the king was on her side if she rebelled and sought Willas Tyrell.

Aerys stood silently in the room for about five minutes. “Do we all think the lucky lord is Willas Tyrell?” Rickard nodded, but of course he would agree, he was Aerys’ imaginary friend.

“I would wager that was his identity.” His lord commander replied.

“And you?” Aerys asked the last two people.

“My birds can find out.” Varys cooed.

“His birds have already confirmed it to him, he just doesn’t want to give up the ace yet.” Darkstar snarked at the Whisper Keeper.

“My birds have only told me that our princess exchanges letters with the young lord and they have met a few times.”

“Regurgitate it.” Aerys demanded.

“Your grace.” Varys was taken back by the king’s demand.

“Birds. Regurgitate. Feed me your information. It is your metaphor why am I explaining this to you?” He turned to raise his hands at Rickard, he was glad to see the stable lord nodding in agreement, he was not being strange, it did make sense. “Seriously, am I the only person here who has his head on today?” He asked Rickard.

_ You never have your head on straight_. At least Rickard never pandered to him.

“They left the city today.” Varys said quickly.

“Is she still pure?” Aerys asked no one in particular.

“Not sure she was when she left, but if she was, she still is.” Darkstar reassured the king, Lord Willas had been a gentleman.

“Meaning what? Has someone tainted my granddaughter?” Aerys looked at Varys as if the next words he said could set him alight.

“Your grace.” Varys did not wish to go into that murky pond. Aerys glared at the Secret Keeper, he knew something, he was not telling Aerys something, because if Rhaenys was no longer a maid there was someone in the Keep who had lain with her, not a stranger, someone within his very Keep.

“Don’t whimper at me.” Aerys knew no matter who was Rhaenys’ father, if Rhaegar was her father, or as he suspected Jaime Lannister was, she was not his grandchild, he had watched her grow and call him grandfather for a score of years. He remembered the first time she had come stomping up the throne room hall to him with a cranky face and screamed ‘Popa’ at him then smiled proud of her achievement and kissed his knee. _Who had dared to touch that little girl?_ “Was it that little Blackfyre?” Varys’ head shook slowly, and his mouth hung open slightly with his concern for Aerys’ deductions, and what it could mean for the prince.

“Oh, your grace, I don’t think Lord Varys knew you were aware that Crown Prince Aegon was a fake.” Sir Dayne said with a smirk.

“Hate to ruin your big reveal, if that was the plan.” Aerys did sound apologetic. “I was aware he was a Blackfyre, and an actual Blackfyre too. Do not worry I presently have no plans to out your imposter.” Varys smiled relieved. “Unless he touched my little grandgirl, then I will skin him and fill his skin with straw.”

No one looked settled with that image, but Aerys was mad and did not care, he had to look after the girl, her father was dead, and her brother was in Essos. “Darkstar, find out who hurt my Rhaenys and bring me his appendage.”

“I will discover if someone hurt your Rhaenys and I will bring you said appendage.” Darkstar bowed. “However, if he, whomever he may be did not hurt her, he will be keeping his appendage.”

Aerys stared at Darkstar then took a very deliberate step toward him, he placed himself as close as he could to the knight, who was truly the heir and spoke as quietly as he could. “I will forgive past transgressions, if it will see Rhaenys happy, because your father loved her as his own. I will not drag her past up, for the same reason. In your search for this truth, if you find any male of my kingdom touched my little princess however, he dies, because she has never agreed to any boy touching her.”

Darkstar turned his head slightly so his words could be as quiet. “You do not know what she thought in the darkness of the dungeons. What stirred within her breast.”

Aerys took a step back. “I know as with the generations before her, love. The fire of the sun and the ice of the moon. They circle the world.” He then left the room sounding like a madman rambling, repeating. “Always circling. Always circling.” Lord Hightower followed his king and Varys stared at the remaining Sir Dayne.

“The king…”

“Do not concern yourself, Lord Varys, the Blackfyre imposter did not rape his sister. I will make you aware that even if your replacement conspiracy with the Martells is revealed, and his affair with Rhaenys is revealed, he will not be taking the princess as his wife.”

“I am sure I do not know…”

“I know Jon Connington has taken the real Aegon to Queen Rhaella.”

Varys smiled a knowing smile. “I see you are well informed Lord Dayne.”

“I am, I should also let you know that regicide is still a capital offense and punished by beheading.” Darkstar walked out of the room allowing Varys to contemplate what he might of his parting words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I will find a path forward with this conundrum of Thin OCs, because when I originally scribed this years ago I only wrote outline until Jon's abduction by Visenya, then wrote one interaction once they had him back in Meereen. Then an argument between Aerys and Daenerys and a discussion between Jon and Darkstar in Winterfell. So there were huge holes and I need to work on the current one. Sorry.
> 
> Also still working on No Northern Fool. Still too much gooey family stuff, not enough forward movement of plot.


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